Feral
by BloodRedDemon
Summary: Neglected in favour of his younger brother, Harry Potter always was dissatisfied. His Parents and their friends fawned over Thomas, no matter what the older brother did. Harry upped and left; why would he have stayed? 6 years later, Harry Potter found a new home. The boy is in the middle of it all, though. What will his role be? Where will his allegiance lie?
1. Prologue Part 1

**I'll say again, this is an AU fic. Harry is very different in this. As well as that, he's 2 years older than in cannon. The basic plot will stay similar through GOF and OOtP; though I'll make some additions and alterations to both.**

**I hope you enjoy this story.**

**Needless to say, I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Please Favourite/Follow/Review.**

Andrew Greengrass was disgusted with his family. With his _name_. His _ancestors _and their practise of bending to the wills of the bigoted families.

Because of a _long standing tradition_, he was expected to sign his daughter off to _Malfoy_ and his brat of an heir?! Not acceptable! Andrew was intending to stay in the category of Grey permanently, and if he had to, he would sever the ties he had with those of the dark variety. They were valuable, but he would _not_ betray his family. Never!

'He even had the _nerve_ to try to have _my_ daughter as a _second wife_ to his spoilt brat of a son!' Lord Greengrass snarled to himself. 'If he hadn't had his cronies with him, he'd be going home without the ability to sneer.' Close to a dozen of the Death Eaters were surrounding Lucius as he tried to _convert_ Andrew to the Dark Lord's side.

The 'Dark Lord's side'. Everyone knew he had been vanquished, yet Malfoy still tried to bank on his old master's power as much as possible; squeezing every last benefit from the name Voldemort and the fear that people still felt at the very implication of the brutal terrorist. Little Thomas Potter had defeated the 'strongest wizard in Britain', and Lucius still expected Andrew to quake in his boots at the mention of his master's order. Not likely.

Something told the livid Businessman that his daughters would not be a fan of Draco when the little sod began at Hogwarts in 4 years time. How could a 7 year old _be_ that arrogant? He may have to teach Daphne a few borderline curses to ensure that nothing happened to her in Slytherin. Assuming that's where she went, anyway. But, since she was his little ice princess, he was near certain that his prediction would come to pass.

At least she'd have Tracy in the house with her; the two were constant companions. Well, the four were, but Caroline struck him as a Ravenclaw more so than his own house. And Jasmine may well join her. He remembered a few girls of her sort in that house from his own time in Hogwarts.

But Malfoy's power at Hogwarts would undoubtedly mean his son would get away with murder. Daphne would be fine. She was extremely subtle. Caroline was intelligent enough to avoid trouble in the first place. Jasmine was too kind to consider violence. But Tracy? Tracy he was worried about. The girl was a little naïve, and would no doubt retaliate in the other Slytherin manner. Strike hard and teach the others not to mess with her.

_Draco_ would not learn from that, though. He would just run to his daddy and have him clean up the mess. Adelaide would have his hide if anything happened to one of the girls. He shivered in fear.

It was lucky he did.

That shiver meant that he felt the pickpocket before the child vanished back into the shadows. Diagon alley didn't often have thieves. No doubt it was a successful hunting ground for the young one. Target the prosperous, and take a few galleons each time. Plenty to live on food wise, but people with the money that Andrew had would not pay the loss any mind.

Unfortunately, Andrew was no ordinary noble. No, he was the husband of Adelaide Greengrass. And he'd be damned if he let a child live on the streets.

He took chase, pursuing the now fleeing boy down the street, and through a side alley. The kid was quick, scampering through the obstacles that Andrew Greengrass ploughed through, his large frame making this the easier option.

The child looked to be no older than 11. So to say that he was shocked when the red light of a stunner shone through the alley, and the bolt shot toward him, would be an understatement. Now, he was curious himself as to who this child was. He picked up the pace as the two ran out into another open area.

In the dead of night, the complex they had arrived in was empty of everything. This gave Andrew a huge advantage with his longer legs, and his bounds allowed his to catch up to the small frame quickly. Only for a tripping jinx to knock him off balance.

That one definitely came from the kid.

Lord Greengrass caught himself quickly and saw that the boy had only achieved a few yards distance between the chaser and the chasee. With ease, he closed this distance and seized the boy by his shoulders. He looked down at the child, his black hair and dark muggle clothing making it easy to see how he blended in so easily.

The glowing emerald orbs that stared at Andrew, on the other hand? Not so much.

-(_)-

Adelaide Greengrass watched her 5 daughters, delighted as four giggled gleefully and the other one smiled happily. No prizes for guessing which witch that was.

She loved her family. She loved her daughters. She loved her surrogate daughters. She loved her husband.

Her love for the charming Andrew Greengrass was furthered by his support in her endeavour. Tracy had always been a good friend to Daphne, and when her parents had perished in a Death Eater raid, Adelaide insisted that the couple take her in. They had officially adopted her soon enough. Now, the two had grown up as sisters since they were 5. The two had always been inseparable, and that was only furthered by the addition of the other 2.

Of course, Astoria was very much the little sister, but she had always been welcomed nonetheless. The two were surprisingly protective, and Caroline had inherited that trait.

Caroline had been in a muggle orphanage 'til half way trough her 7th year. Then, Lady Greengrass had sensed her power when the 5 were walking through London, and they had jumped at the opportunity to adopt yet another into their growing family. A strange trait it was that Adelaide possessed. Allowing her to sense the presence of magic in others.

Jasmine had been more recent. Nearing 4 months now. The noble couple didn't know what happened to her family. Both parents had been unspeakables. They could have been doing an experiment that went wrong. They could have known something they shouldn't have. They could have been obliviated. They didn't question taking her in when she needed it, though. And now the family consisted of 6 females and one male.

Neither of the two said it, but they did long for a son. Whether a true son or surrogate, it mattered little. The family just didn't yet feel complete.

Little did Adelaide know, her prayers were being answered at that very moment. In the form of an unbelievable 10 year old boy.

-(_)-

"Girls?" The man who called himself Andrew calls out as the two arrived inside a large house. An entrance hall? He sounded... Happy? Yes, happy. Harry wondered why. Who was he calling?

The sound of light footsteps reached Harry's ears quickly, and he soon saw 6 females come quickly through the doorway. One around the Andrew-Man's age. Four the age that Harry believed himself to be. One 2 years younger than the others. They, too, looked bewilderingly happy.

Why were they happy?

"Daddy!" The youngest cried out, running forward. Running _towards_ the intimidating man. The two embrace. Happy, yet again. Was this what a father was like? I imagine so. An almost pleasant sight. If not for the pain that comes with it. The anger.

The other 5 approached the now three in the entrance hall at a more measured pace. Once the youngest stepped back, the oldest put her lips against his in greeting. An odd custom that human adults seem to practice. What was the purpose of that? Harry pondered.

The other 4 greet him in turn with a hug and a press of the lips on his cheek. Each smiling at the man as they did.

The eldest turned to face Harry with a smile. Kind, I believe. And asks her husband.

"Who is this, Andy?" She sounds excited. Why?

"This is Harry." He patted Harry lightly on the shoulder and the boy only recoiled a little. Something the emerald eyed boy was proud of. The females each smiled at the younger male, and the youngest stepped forward and held out her hand. A greeting?

Harry racked his brain. What was the correct procedure? Men shake hands. But often when meeting those of the female gender they did otherwise. Formally, Harry believed. These people are... regal. Harry decided how to proceed.

The boy took the young girl's hand, and bent slightly, brushing his lips against her knuckle as she giggled. Why did she giggle? Did Harry do something wrong? The raven haired boy looked, to check what reason she had to laugh. She appeared happy, although quite... red. Andrew seemed to approve. Why did she giggle?

"Hi, Harry. I am Astoria Greengrass." She stated, trying to act nobly. The others smile at the attempt and the slight failure.

"Hello, Astoria." Harry's voice sounded off to even his own ears. Unfamiliar. "My name was Harry Potter."

The humans present gasped at his statement. They were shocked. And Harry knew why, for once.

Because of his _brother_.

Because of his _family_.

Because he _left_.

-()()()-

**_A little over a year later._**

It would be a strange sight to behold, even in the wizarding world, Harry was sure.

The 'family' was quite large. Not as large as the orange haired family to the left, of course, but large nonetheless. The mother kissed goodbye her 'daughters', while her husband followed her, repeating the farewells. Both were teary.

The youngest, not wanting to miss the departure, was stood off to the side with him. She was upset, too. Harry's hand was being squeezed as an outlet. He squeezed back reassuringly. Astoria gave a sad smile to him. She wouldn't be joining the 5 for 2 years. She would be lonely.

Checking that the adults were still occupied, the younger male in the group handed the girl a tiny rectangle parcel, and winked at her. She copied his actions, trusting him that whatever it was would help.

The mother rounded on him, eyes filling with tears again. The bond between a mother and her son, even if it was a 'son', was special. Adelaide had gotten it into her head that a witch was going to steal him away before they saw each other again. The Father had the opposite thoughts, and had entrusted the safety of his daughters to his 'son'. While he didn't quite feel like a son, they had effectively fostered the boy.

Letting go of Astoria's hand, Harry hugged his adoptive 'mother' back.

"We'll write every week, I promise." He whispered soothingly as she tightened her grip.

"My little boy's growing up!" She wailed into his shoulder. Odd, she hadn't ever known him when he was "little". He supposed she was rattled and frazzled with her emotions. The house, no doubt, would be rather empty from now on.

He arched an eyebrow at Daphne, and she smirked back at him, returning the look. Something about Harry's _arrival_, and the circumstances surrounding it, had made her mother very protective of him. Actually, that wasn't quite true. His arrival, and the person they had gotten to know subsequently, made all of the females in the 'family' fiercely protective of Harry. Andrew, too, in his own way. Though _his_ protectiveness focused on teaching young Harry to defend himself. Building on the surprising skills the 10 year old had already had when Lord Greengrass found him. Andrew was looking forward to the letters they would get home regarding Harry putting older students into their place.

After complaining some more about his leaving, Adelaide Greengrass let her 'son' go, and the company parted, 5 heading onto the train while 3 waved sadly after them.

-(_)-(_)-

"Potter?"

"The runaway?"

"The brother of the boy-who-lived?"

"I wonder he can get me an autograph?"

McGonagall had called out Harry's name to be sorted. Unsurprisingly, the revelation that the older Potter brother was still alive shocked everyone in the hall. Students whispered excitedly, teachers watched with surprised looks, and everyone wondered about the look of the boy.

He was tall, for an 11 year old, and had a rough look to him. Hair messy, as with every Potter, emerald eyes, and a furrowed brow. He glared at everyone that he heard mention his old family. He wished the Transfiguration Professor hadn't use his name, he didn't want any association with the family he had left.

The hat fell to the boy's brow and he heard the knowledgeable voice of a hat in his head.

"_Well, aren't you an interesting one? Hmm." _The hat was silent for 1 minute. _"I'm unsure of where to put you. You certainly are fascinating." _The Hat sounded happy for the difficulty. The children were getting more and more simple these days. This year had been far better than usual for that. _"You must be the first sortie in centuries that would likely prosper in all 4 houses. I suppose I will have to take your opinion into consideration... Given your opinion of the Potters; Gryffindor would be less than ideal, would you agree?"_

"_That sounds about right. Thomas Potter will be attending soon enough. I'd rather not have to interact with him any more than absolutely necessary."_

"_Of course, of course. Hufflepuff... no, no, that would go against Helga's own principles. Those you are loyal to are not in her house, after all."_

"_That makes sense. And I couldn't get any privacy in Hufflepuff."_

"_Agreed." _The Hat had narrowed it down by half by now. _"Do you have a preference as to which house you would prefer, Harry?"_ Ravenclaw and Slytherin were both apt choices. _"Slytherin would allow you to get the privacy you desire, and would certainly help you on the road to greatness, but your keen mind would be very well suited to Ravenclaw, too. From what I see, both would be a perfect fit for you."_

"_I disagree. Ravenclaw... I won't say that I'm dumb; that would be a lie. But I wouldn't fit in, would I? I'm not... studious." _The first year sighed wearily, before a smirk stretched across his face. _"I have only one question... is it true that Slytherins get their own rooms?"_

"_That's right." _The hat sounded amused at this query. Maybe not the best factor to take into account on his decision, but at least it helped to make the final choice. _"I guess that's my choice made. You, Harry Potter, will be in... SLYTHERIN!"_

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	2. Prologue Part 2

**I hope you enjoy this story.**

**Needless to say, I don't own Harry Potter.**

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_2 years later_

Harry sat at his table, very uncomfortable.

Why were they all staring at _him_. Surely it should be at the boy across the hall, not his older brother.

"Gryffindor!" Was there ever any doubt? Thomas sauntered over to the cheering table, as the twin Weasleys chanted that they "Got Potter". Still, the eyes in the hall remained on Harry. Not all of them, of course, but enough to make the Slytherin uneasy.

Harry's _brother_ screamed arrogant. Even more than the blonde Ponce that had just sat down at the snake table. The boy-who-lived was animatedly with the younger Weasley while his brother squirmed under the gazes of too many people.

"Trace." He whispered to the brunette sat next to him. "Why is everyone looking at me?" The girl took a break from glaring at the female population to answer him, easily telling a fib.

"Probably because of your brother." Harry scowled and nodded, annoyed at the relation and not noticing the telltale signs of the Davis girl lying. On Harry's other side, a blonde haired girl nodded in agreement, not taking her ice cold gaze off the offending females on the Ravenclaw table.

Harry turned an impassive look back onto the sorting, clapping politely as the 11 year olds were sorted; unlike the majority of his house, who only clapped for their fellow Slytherins. His house really was arrogant sometimes.

It passed quickly enough as the students were evenly split into 4. Unfortunately, his house had worse luck than normal based on the first impressions he got off those joining. 2 had constant sneers; Malfoy and Nott, both families were supporters of Voldemort. 2 more looked like gorillas and struck him as less intelligent than the primates would be. The only male that struck him as worth having in the house was a tall black boy that had an indifferent mask on. Seemingly a similar Slytherin to Daphne; hiding his true self behind an indifferent mask. They were joined by a large girl, a pug-faced girl and a familiar figure; who was sat across from him. Harry smirked at Astoria as she looked distastefully at the bragging Malfoy heir, while the one called Pansy Parkinson stared at the blonde boy as though he was the reincarnation of Merlin and deserved her eternal .

Dumbledore made his speech. Telling the gathered children to avoid the third floor corridor couldn't possibly backfire could it? Fool.

Harry watched the younger Potter's eyes light up in excitement at that thought. Apparently he had inherited their _father_'s idiotic sense of adventure.

"My brother is going to get himself killed." Harry commented to Daphne as the school song began. Her eyes glinted slightly in amusement as she turned to him, but otherwise she refrained from any visible reaction. Ice queen indeed.

Harry joined his house in glaring at the twins of Gryffindor, as they dragged the song out far more than necessary. It really was an idiotic, and very annoying, tradition.

Harry took to carving into the table with his fingernail as he waited for the food to be served. He soon felt the food appear in front of him and reached out to fill his plate, ready to sate his hunger.

"Eww..." Harry heard Tracy moan. When the emerald eyed boy turned to her, eyebrow raised, she continued. "Don't look at the youngest Weasley. That's repulsive." The ginger boy was shovelling food into his mouth, missing half the time and smearing the food over his face. Tracy pushed her food away. "Ugh. I've lost my appetite."

"Well, we can just get some food in the kitchens if you're hungry later." Harry said, shrugging as he avoided glancing at the gold and red table.

"You're right. But I'm really just looking forward to sleeping in my warm, big bed." Tracy sighed, smiling pleasantly at Harry, who grinned back at her.

On the other side of the room, another Potter had taken note of his sibling. The chubby figure of Thomas Potter frowned at the least friendly looking students.

"Fred, George. Who's that?" He pointed over at the student, seeming to be in the twins' year, who had a more than passing resemblance to Thomas' father.

"That's Harry..." George trailed off, looking to his brother.

"Yeah..."

"Harry what?" That name was familiar.

"Um... Harry Potter?" Next to them, girls started staring at the ebony haired wizard, having been given justification to do so, while some males looked at him as though he was the reincarnation of Merlin, others with trepidation, and others, one in particular being Oliver Wood, with anger.

Harry frowned at the increase in attention.

"What?!" Now, Thomas was angry. "_That's_ him?! The one that left my Mom and Dad heartbroken?! Because he was _jealous_ of me?!"

Now, the girls in earshot turned to the brown haired Potter with glares that would make the bravest of men cower in fear.

"W-What?"

"Everyone knows the story." One twin began.

"Your parents neglected him-"

"'Cus you were the boy-who-lived-"

"And you lot didn't even realise that he'd run away-"

"Until Flitwick visited-"

"And found that he was gone."

"So you aren't going to get any-"

"Sympathy here. Especially since-"

"He's easily the most popular Slytherin there is-"

"And all the girls in 4th year and below-"

"And a lot from above-"

"Are crushing on him."

The people present were used to the odd habit the twins had when talking, so nobody bothered to bring it up.

"What?! Why?!" Thomas exclaimed. In his mind, Harry didn't deserve _any_ female attention. After all, he had been so cowardly and jealous he'd run away from home just because he didn't get as much attention as Tom did. And who could blame his parents? Thomas had defeated the greatest Dark Lord in history, Harry couldn't even write in English when he was 4 years old. "And who told you that Bollocks story?!"

"That would be professor Flitwick." A dark skinned girl sat near the twins commented, frowning at the-boy-who-lived.

"Well then he lied!"

"Why on Earth would he do that?" The girl next to her queried. The diminutive professor was popular with every house.

"Because... I don't know?! But Harry must be Dark! He's in Slytherin! Maybe he used the Imperius curse on Flitwick or something!"

"No he's not!" The third member of that group snapped angrily at Thomas. Katie Bell was _very_... fond of Harry, and was known to be defensive of the older Slytherin. "He's nice." She stated. As she turned to that side of the room, her eyes met amused emerald ones, she gave a quiet shriek, and she ducked her head. The other two quiddich girls chuckled at their younger friend's reaction, as her face turned bright red, and shared a knowing grin.

"And we all know you're not at all biased, don't we Katie?" Fred commented, amused.

"Shut up!" She exclaimed, quietly, again.

"How do you expect to play against Slytherin if you can't even look at Potter?" A stern looking 5th year asked, sounding annoyed.

"Leave her alone, Wood." Angelina said, smirking. "We'll work with her. Harry'll like her more if he sees she can give him a challenge, after all." The dark skinned girl didn't miss the determined expression Katie adopted at this statement. "Focus on finding a seeker." The team really did need to find an excellent seeker. Else Slytherin would win yet again.

As the deserts appeared in front of Harry, he met the eyes of one of his... friends? They were all treated like family by the Greengrasses, but he definitely didn't think of them as sisters. Caroline was previously glaring at the girls in the hall. Of course she and the others had noticed Harry's growth over the summer, and were certainly not going to complain, but these... these _harlots_ had no right to eye him like he was a piece of meat. That was their job... Wait, what? No, what she meant was that it was their job to keep these bitches away from the male friend of their group.

"What's wrong?" Jasmine questioned her fellow Ravenclaw, seeing her face redden drastically.

"N-Nothing." Caroline stated a little too fast.

"Really?" Jasmine asked with a smirk. "So did I just miss the massive suntan that you have?" Caroline dipped her head, focusing on the chocolate cake on her plate.

The other Ravenclaw went back to glowering at any girl who's gaze lingered on the 3rd year Slytherin.

-()()()()()()()()-

In the dead of night, Harry Potter snuck back into the boy's corridor, having finished his job for the night. He plucked the splinter out of his nails and thanked whatever deity there may be that his core had expanded over the summer, else he couldn't have given the defences he did today without dropping like a sack of bricks in the middle of the corridor. This was the most important year for it after all; and that was the reason he had exhausted himself so thoroughly. _That_ had been put to rest from now on.

-(_)(_)(_)-

"It usually happens on the second night, doesn't it?" Jasmine asked nervously as she and Caroline were let into the Slytherin common room, arms full of food from the kitchen. It was just after 10:30am. The girls had let Harry sleep in some. Though far from the amount he would like.

"That's right." Daphne frowned while Tracy looked rather worried.

"Daph?" She murmured to her, arguably, closest friend.

"Yeah, Trace?" She replied quietly too.

"Do you think Harry will let us sleep with him tonight?" Daphne raised an eyebrow and Tracy's cheeks coloured slightly. "Sleep in his room tonight?"

"I'm sure he would, Tracy. But I've got a better plan than that." The blonde had a devious, and sadistic, smirk on her face. One that promised pain.

"Are you going to tell us? Or keep us in suspense?" Jasmine questioned.

Daphne responded with a grin to her rainbow haired friend.

"Think about the new trick that Harry showed us last week." The other girls looked slightly uneasy until they remembered _what_ they were discussing. The bastards deserved whatever they got.

"Which one?" Astoria pondered aloud. She hadn't doubted her sister's plan at all.

"Hmm. Good question. I say we leave that choice up to Harry."

They crossed the underground common room and up into the third year male dorms. At the end of the hallway, there was a single door that 4 of the girls had visited quite regularly over the past 2 years. Not for any funny business, just to see Harry. The door was made of dark, mahogany wood. If you really looked, you could see odd symbols painted onto it in dark red/black liquid. The front most girl, being Caroline, knocked loudly on his door.

"Hey, girls." Harry answered with a yawn, as the door swung open. His eyelids were drooping as he looked at the girls, stretching as he yawned. Unfortunately this just highlighted the absence of a shirt on his upper body. The girls, between the heating of their faces, again noted the single symbol on etched into his chest; mid point between his pectorals. An eye that was inverse; black sclera with white irises and pupils. He told them that that one hid the others. Whatever that meant. "What's up?" He asked with a sleepy smile, not noticing the red faces and the fact that their gazes certainly weren't on his face.

"Uh, yeah." Daphne was the first to succeed in fighting the blush and her face only remained slightly pink. "We brought you some breakfast. Why are you so tired?" Harry frowned.

"Did I not mention?" The girls all looked slightly baffled and/or annoyed, and shook their heads.

"Oh. I warded the rooms last night."

"What rooms?"

"Uh, the female ones." The girls frowned at this. They didn't like the implication; being that he would have exhausted his reserves in the process. "I put more on your rooms, but I can't stand _that_ practice and I've finally got enough power to stop it. So I'm going to." He shrugged. "Well, I have done."

"Oh..." Daphne was disappointed in the preventative measures. Not that she wanted _that_ to happen to _anyone_, she had just been looking forward to the plan she'd had.

"Are you okay? Why do you sound sad?" Harry tilted his head to the side, confused at the reaction his friend had.

"There was just something that I was going to ask you to do." She shrugged, voice one of misery. Caroline shook her head, amused; the guys tonight were in for a shock.

-(_)()(_)-

Marcus Flint, Jordan Scour and Edward Coulridge were taking the Malfoy heir with them on tonight's _adventure_. Tracy Davis and Daphne Greengrass had many suitors, but these three were the ones who won this right. All of them wore sinister grins, anticipating their fun.

Had they been paying more attention, had it been _far_ lighter, and had they been smarter, the 4 may have noticed the trap that they walked past, the small runes outlining the entrance to the corridor. Not that anyone would notice the effects anytime soon. The perpetrators would realise within the week, most likely; though they'd refuse to tell anyone for quite some time. Embarrassing as it would be to tell their peers, and considering the Hogwarts grape vine that seemed to find out anything humiliating and/or amusing.

Flint and the others had an invisible mark also on their forehead, one that read "DG & TD". The fools had failed to act in a Slytherin manner, and so had a Lion on their lower backs, too. That one was very visible. Those two, and one more that they'd be sure never to forget, would be the only effects to come into play for this room. Because, for what happened next, the three had to be able to flee.

Scour attempted to kick open the door, which should have worked. In this case, it was like kicking a concrete wall.

"Fuck!" He cursed as he held his toes, hopping on the other foot.

"Idiot." Coulridge commented, twisting the handle and opening the door normally. The room was dark, but even so, they quickly noticed that the beds were empty.

"What the- Where are those sluts?"

"Probably with Potter." Flint growled out.

"Well then, let's go get Potter!" Malfoy exclaimed, not knowing the reputation Harry Potter had. "I bet he's pathetic just like his brother!"

"Uh-uh. No way." Coulridge replied. "This is bad enough. I bet he's gonna know that we were the ones here anyway. I ain't him a free pass to use one of his freaky curses on us!" He was waving his hands in surrender.

"He's right." Flint said through gritted teeth. "Let's just move on to another room." He made to go to the room across the hall.

"T-Too l-late." Scour stammered. The others turned to him, intending to ask what he meant, but saw a pair of emerald orbs floating in mid air. The green eyes glowed slightly as they began to approach the 4.

"What The Fu-" A 700lb jet black cat slammed into Coulridge's chest, and the 6th year felt something snap as he was thrown back into the wall.

"Merlin!" In front of the three still conscious Slytherins, there was a large, though not fully grown, massive and shaggy big cat, with fangs associated with the prehistoric predator; suggesting this was the type, facing them, fangs bared.

The Sabre Tooth prowled forward, to the blonde first year, and let out a chilling growl, the fact that the cat's head was above the boy's to look down on him showed the massive size. The serious muscles visible even through it's coat hinted at the strength. It would be quite near the height of Flint, who was very tall for a sixth year. The smell of urine spread through the corridor.

The Sabretooth Cat roared, and Malfoy felt his bones rattle. The blonde boy's eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell to the ground. The other two present legged it away from the apex predator.

The black feline stalked after the pair, growling a low rumble all the while, with his teeth bared. As they reached the common room, Flint and Coulridge glanced back to see the monstrous animal barrelling towards them. Reaching half-way through the small hall, Harry leapt at the pair, sailing through the air, over the furniture between him and his _prey_, and slamming into Coulridge. Had his claws been out, the boy would have been eviscerated. As it was, he hadn't had them out at any point as he hunted tonight.

Marcus Flint was frozen. He couldn't escape this creature; even his tiny brain comprehended that. Now that he saw it up close, it appeared to have some Siberian Tiger in it, too. He already knew this thing was fearsome. The big cat was truly magnificent. Had it been Hagrid, he would have loved to meet the feline. Flint? Not so much.

The Sabretooth was built to slaughter game and beasts _much_ larger than the quiddich captain.

Fortunately for Flint, Slytherin would be excluded from the upcoming quidditch match were their captain to be in the hospital wing. And, so, the Emerald eyed animal just let out an almighty roar, sending him into an unnatural slumber in a pile of pungent liquid. The cat looked at him with disdain and slinked to the third floor boys' corridor.

-()()-

That morning was very interesting in the Slytherin. And it was only morning in the technical term.

At 2:30am the Slytherins heard a fearsome roar.

They slowly proceeded to the Common room, intending to investigate what was going on; slightly Gryffindor-ish of them, but they had curiosity nonetheless.

The sight they beheld when they left their dorm rooms was surprising to say the least. Particularly for the third-year girls. They, as soon as they left their rooms, were struck by the smell of Urine. Once the lights were turned on, they were greeted with an explanation of the smell. Or, at least, the beginnings of an explanation.

A blonde first year was lying in the centre of a wet patch in the hall, outside the only already open door.

"What did Daphne do now?" She was known to be _very _scary. It was feasible for the girl to make the younger student faint. Though pissing himself was a bit of an overreaction.

"I guess they wanted to favour or our new _prince_." The more intelligent of the three girls pointed to the slumped 5th year collapsed against one wall, and then to the piss covered 1st year..

"Pigs. But why haven't they... disturbed us yet?" Each girl had been awake all night; waiting to defend themselves. The odd noises had warned them not to come out until now, though.

They ventured to the common room.

"Again?" Was this all the rave or something? Another Slytherin was lying in urine, and one lying unconscious in a heap.

The others came into the common room, the first years looked shocked out of their skulls; except for one of them. A small blonde girl looked amused at the broken/humiliated forms lying on the floor. Two fat first years were looking around confused. What were they supposed to do? Their leader was missing.

"Um... why are there older students tied up outside our rooms?" Bulstrode questioned those in front of the group.

"Tied up?" A 4th year girl questioned, holding hands with her girlfriend as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with the unoccupied limb.

At this point the final of the third year boys and girls entered together. Daphne Greengrass gave no heed to the looks she received from many a girl, Tracy blushed slightly at the implication of their looks, and Harry just ignored those giving him odd looks. Had any of them made a comment about the girls, that'd have been a different matter entirely.

Unlike everyone else present, Harry was wide awake. He hadn't been woken by this, and was used to a nocturnal pattern.

"Yep!" Astoria proclaimed. "The dumb-asses are all bound by rope and stuck to a wall." The others were shocked at the audacity of the girl. Was she looking to be tortured. Only 3 understood why she was plenty brave enough to insult her 'betters'.

-(_)-

The three youngest professors were discussing their new students, a practise they engaged in more often than the students would realise. It ordinarily focussed on the third years, with some mention of any younger students that struck Aurora Sinistra as promising. Today, though, it was largely focused on a single student. And the work that he had handed in.

"It isn't possible." Bethesda Babbling commented.

"I agree. How much teaching must he have had?" Septima Vector nodded along.

"I told you he'd be good." Aurora Sinistra said smugly. Sinistra had seen his skill in her own class, and had been certain that Harry would have an affinity for Runes and Arithmancy, too.

While his Arithmancy wasn't quite as perfect; the theory being slightly oddly explained, he seemed to be as near an expert in Runes as was physically possible. Well, physically possible had one lived for several centuries devoted to the craft. Babbling had told them the story of him demonstrating his practical abilities. It was an amazing sight; more than she had thought possible. Runes ordinarily could only be used for warding and enchantments. He could, also, do that. But he'd demonstrated several abilities Babbling hadn't thought possible.

Carving an unfamiliar rune into a chair, the sitting apparatus had floated into the air. He carved '6ft' next to it, and that was how high it levitated. It hovered that far from the floor even now, as the trio could see from their positions in the classroom.

When she asked him to explain _how_ he did it, Harry had given her a blank look and shrugged. He had apparently memorized every theory that wizards had concerning runic magic, but just said that he knew what to do when she wanted to learn more about the subject. It frustrated the Professor, and she had studied the magic around the chair for the entire afternoon. No progress was made. Nor had these two been able to help.

That demonstration would be enough to pass the OWLs in both Arithmancy and Runes with flying colours; the ability to do it showed Harry _at least_ deserved an Outstanding OWL in the subject. Probably a NEWT too. And, if he made a high level ward; which they were sure he could based on the proficiency he had shown, he would secure an O in the 7th year exam as well. That was the ultimate goal of both lessons, after all.

"_This_ is unnaturally good." Babbling smiled as she said so, thinking of the future of and having less than appropriate thoughts. She knew that a younger version of herself would see Harry Potter as perfect. Intelligent, loyal, charismatic, strong... the list went on. She wouldn't have been surprised to find the other two had very similar thoughts running through their respective minds.

"It sucks that we have nothing to teach him, doesn't it?" The boy was a prodigy, after all. But having him in their classes would simply cheat him out of the lessons in Care of Magical Creatures, Divination or Muggle studies; whichever he chose to pursue.

"Yes, a real shame for you." Sinistra grinned at her friends.

**Hope you enjoyed, please Favourite/Follow/Review**


	3. Prologue Part 3

**I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Please Favourite/Follow/Review.**

Thomas Potter was unhappy. Very unhappy.

Nobody was giving him the respect he deserved.

Sure, a few of these people treated him with slight awe, since he had defeated the Dark Lord. But only a small number of the population was treating him correctly.

He believed himself to be king of the school, yet none of these fools understood that. None realised that he _would_ rule this place. Then he would show his upstart brother.

Even the professors had the nerve to compare the two. As tough Harry could possibly hope to match the superior abilities of Thomas. Even now, in his first year, he was on the Quiddich team.

But the _teachers_ actually acted like his pathetic brother was as skilled as Thomas. What in Merlin's name was wrong with them? Were they idiots?

Thomas Potter was the **Boy-who-lived**. His brother was **Nothing**.

That was the train of thought he had had as he approached the 4 girls that Harry apparently was close to that morning. That was what motivated him to tell them just how pathetic his brother was. That he wasn't worth their time. And that they would be better off to stick with Thomas himself.

And that was why he was now unconscious in the hospital wing.

In Madam Pomphrey's clinic; it did not matter that the arrogant boy was the boy-who-lived. In fact, she was upset to hear what he said about her favourite student. Not that that had anything to do with her prioritization. No, there just happened to be far more serious cases in her ward that she needed to take care of first.

Two Slytherin boys had injuries that suggested being stepped on by Hagrid, while another two had fainted from sheer panic.

The hexes on Thomas Potter were not serious. Painful: Sure. But not serious. And so she let him stew in his mistake.

It went against everything that the matron usually practised, but today she was glad to see these 4 in the wing. Usually, it would be a flood of crying 1st years and potentially a few traumatised 3rd year girls. She had been betting on the elder Greengrass and Davis, at the very least, coming in today. Poppy was far from stupid. She was certain that Harry had done something to these 4 because he had known that the boys had been intending to _take_ the two. Though she did wonder what exactly he had done to give these injuries. The shattered ribs required at least a few days in the wing, and the dizziness could have meant concussions. She wasn't inclined to let any of them out before the day after at the very least. Maybe the others would learn a lesson from this group's fate.

-(_)-

Hermione Granger was having the worst day in her young life.

She had been even before this; not only had she yet to find a single friend at her new school, but now the bullying had begun. Thomas Potter, and Ron Weasley had been mocking her after the Gryffindors' charms lesson, calling her a know-it-all and talking loudly about her having no friends. She knew she shouldn't have let it bother her so much. The pair of them were horrible people, and gradually wearing down the popularity that came with Thomas' title. People, apparently, had expected him to come and be a new version of the elder Potter. They had all quickly been disappointed by the arrogance the boy-who-lived displayed.

Even so, it reminded Hermione of the bullying she had endured to throughout her life so far; something that stung badly enough that she had retreated to the 4th floor bathrooms to cry her eyes out.

Now, that horror had escalated by far.

The 11 year old girl was frozen, staring up at the massive, lumbering grey figure that was swinging its club back and forth in a half-menacing half-moronic manner. What was she supposed to do? A first year knew next to nothing to combat the troll in front of the bookworm.

Hermione had a few ideas. Could she levitate the club away from its owner? Yes, but that wouldn't counter the fact that the towering humanoid was perfectly capable of killing her without his weapon. She assumed it was a he, anyway. She may well be wrong, but it struck her as more masculine than feminine. What on earth was a first year supposed to do against a full grown mountain troll?

The idiotic gigantic _thing _thudded along closer to the scared girl, and Hermione, in one of her less intelligent moments, retreated under a sink to escape, and began praying for somebody to save her. Her bravery, that brought her into Gryffindor, left her as she realised nobody knew she was here, and Hermione closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around her head in a feeble effort to protect herself from the troll's wrath.

As a result, the first year missed her rescue.

Harry had checked his map; the one he made simply to prove he could, after his cowardly professor had ran into the Great Hall, yelled about the troll, and promptly feinted. The troll was simply referred to as 'troll' on the map, an odd fact that he filed away for future reference, and he saw that it was not, in fact, in the dungeon. It was moving slowly through the 4th floor. Right towards a dot called Hermione Granger.

Harry moved very quickly through the school. Maybe not the _most_ Slytherin thing for him to do, but the Hat _had_ told him that he'd fit in in any one of the houses. He could be forgiven for acting in a Gryffindor-ish manner every once in a while. Ugh, Daphne was going to chew him out when she found out about this.

He burst through the doorway, wand twirling already, and cast an _incendio_ at the troll in front of him. The thing's loincloth set alight in an instant, and it dropped it's club, batting stupidly at the burning cloth.

Harry stabbed his wand at the dropped club, and it morphed into a steel spike. A levitation charm, combined with an altered banishing one, quickly resulted in the grey skinned creature dropping to the floor with an echoing thud.

Hermione screamed. That thud equalled her doom, surely that must be the sound of her being struck by the club-of-doom.

"Please be quiet, there's no need to scream, Hermione."

"Wh-what? When did you get here?" She turned a shocked gaze onto her saviour. "What one Earth happened to the troll?!"

"It got stabbed by a large, metal spike." He said, matter-of-factly.

"I saw that! I mean how did it get stabbed by a metal spike?!"

"Let's see. I transfigured the club into a spike, the charmed it to stab the dumb-ass over there."

Hermione sat there, gaping at the older boy like a goldfish, as the sound of footsteps reached her ears from outside of the bathroom.

"Mr Potter! What in Merlin's name..." Mcgonagall asked, shocked at the scene in front of her, before a hint of pride leaked into her features as she realised what one of her favourite students had done. Aside from the frown at his name, his response was cordial as he answered her incomplete question.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I heard mention from one of the first year girls that Hermione, here, had been missing and that they had heard her heading here. I figured that the troll would still be in the dungeon, and that it was more important for the teachers to head down there, so I though t would be better to fetch her myself." He spoke, looking down as if in shame.

"I don't see any reason for you to apologize, Potter." Severus Snape interjected, sharing his house member's dislike of the name. "You have saved this first year's life. I believe you deserve, shall we say 60 points, for helping a Lion, through no obligation of your own. You easily could have simply fled, and tried to find a teacher. By that time, the girl would have been killed."

"Agreed. Ms Granger, would you please tell us why you were up here?" McGonagall questioned, a rare kindness outweighing the reprimand that was still evident in her tone.

"I- Nothing, Professor. I was just being stupid." Her face reddened.

"My _brother_ looked rather guilty, Professor." Harry commented. Professor Mcgonagall frowned at the comment, and turned to the buck-toothed girl.

"I don't..." She relented after the stern expression of her head of house. "Yes, Professor. He and Ron were insulting me about having no friends."

"Thank you for telling me, Miss Granger. I'll make sure to give them the necessary punishment once we arrive back at Gryffindor tower."

-()-

Marcus Flint was not enjoying himself. His Quiddich team was mocking him very persistently about his fate the month before. Now, his bloody chaser was taking _all_ the attention.

"And Potter scores again." Jordan commented in his amplified voice, frustration obvious. "C'mon Fred, George! Hit him!"

"Jordan!"

"What do you think we're trying to do?!" One of the twins yelled back at their best friend.

"Sorry Professor!" Jordan replied to the earlier berating.

"Wood passes to Johnson, and To Spinnet, Damn it! Potter intercepts! Potter passes to Pucey, and Pucey back to Potter! Potter shoots! Slytherin score." He finished minus enthusiasm as his house team was losing rather badly.

The score was now 110-30 in favour of Slytherin. And that was with the efforts of the Weasley twins. The Gryffindor team as a whole was the best team in the school, Harry knew, but the elder Potter made all the difference.

"To Bell, who passes to Johnson, and to Spinnet! Back to Johnson, to Spinnet, to Bell! Oh! And Flint and Pucey both taken out by savage Bludgers from the Weasleys! Quaffle back to Bell! What are you doing, Katie?! Bell fumbles and drops the Quaffle. Potter catches! Potter scores!"

20 minutes later, the scores were up to 130-70 after Bletchley was thrown into his goals by a bludger from Fred, and Pucey had yet to recover from his earlier fall. The Slytherin team was massively disadvantaged. Especially since Flint was being deliberately annoying to Harry and trying to do everything himself.

-()-

Hermione Granger had no idea _why_ she felt the need to do this. Thomas was horrible to her, outweighing even his friend Ron in the insults he threw her way just because she outshined him in class. The boy didn't deserve her help, that was for sure. He wouldn't have gotten it, in fact, had Hermione not wanted to see Harry play.

But her parents had always raised her right. How on Earth could she let him get injured, or worse killed, just because she didn't like the boy? What if she got sent home after he fell from the broom? Surely they would shut the school down after a death of one of the students. Okay, maybe she had an _idea_ why she was saving the-boy-who-lived, but she was unsure if she really should.

And so she snuck through the stands, heading towards Snape, with the intent to stop his jinx before this escalated. The first year girl's fire spread quickly on the greasy robes, and Snape leapt to his feet.

-()-

"And what's this?! What's going on?!" Thomas Potter's broom tried to buck him off. Repeatedly. Harry watched for a little while, right until he realised he had no interest in the outcome. The Weasley twins were going to catch him should the annoyance fall. "Oh, come on! Potter scores!" He exclaimed as though it was a curse. A fire appeared in the teacher's stand, Thomas clambered back onto his broom and the match resumed.

As Katie Bell charged toward the Slytherin hoops again, Harry appeared next to her, trying to take the ball from her. Oddly, the chaser thought the best way to calm her nerves regarding him was to close her eyes. And so she did.

A bludger from one of the Slytherin caught the nose of her broom, and she lost all control, beginning a rapid descent.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed the seekers in a race.

Thomas Potter was going to make it. He was going to get the snitch. Of course he would, he had been trained since he was old enough to walk by James Potter. The best player Hogwarts had ever seen.

Higgs was bigger and slower, Thomas pulled away and stretched out his hand, about to grasp the golden ball... and a Quaffle clocked him on the head, knocking the seeker off course.

"And Potter saves Bell! Thank Merlin!" The girl would certainly have been badly injured. "Umm... is that a foul?" He questioned as the Quaffle caught the Gryffindor seeker. Higgs caught the snitch and Hooch blew her whistle in a long, sharp blast. "Slytherin wins!" About half the crowd cheered for the outcome.

Katie Bell was red, extremely so, as Harry and she landed. He had pulled her onto his broom and to stop the balance being thrown off, Harry had held her close. She wasn't complaining, but her curtain of hair didn't quite stop the crowd from seeing the obvious blush.

Harry dismounted the broom and asked Katie.

"Hey, are you okay?" She was really red, and he wasn't sure what that meant.

"Uh y-yeah. Fine." She squeaked out.

"Good." Harry commented. "That's the second time in 2 years, Katie." He grinned at her. "Are you doing this on purpose?"

"No!" She yelped in a panicked manner. Did he really think that? Harry chuckled at her embarrassment.

"If you say so." He said with a smirk as he turned and headed to the rest of his team, slapping Higgs on the back in congratulations and joining them in the subtle demonstrations of their glee at defeating Gryffindor.

As Katie headed back over to her own team, they all appeared glad that she had not been hurt. Excluding Thomas who looked angry at his defeat, and Wood who appeared conflicted. The captain had his gaze locked on the Slytherin Chaser. He was angry at him for costing Gryffindor the game, but glad he had been there to help the youngest chaser. The effect was humorous as both sides of his face twitched rapidly, unsure of what expression to settle upon.

"Who does that Bastard think he is?!" Thomas Potter began the anticipated rant.

-()()()-

The next morning, Harry was pleasantly surprised as a red letter burst into life in front of his brother. He and his ginger friend had, evidently, been pranked by the twins before breakfast as Thomas' skin was a bright pink and Ronald's was a bright orange.

"THOMAS LILIAN POTTER!" The-boy-who-lived had certainly gotten the short straw in regards to their middle names. Why they felt the need to use bother parents names, Harry did not know.

"HOW DARE YOU BULLY THAT POOR GIRL?! YOU NEARLY GOT HER KILLED! WE HAVE RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS! EVEN YOUR FATHER WASN'T THIS ARROGANT AT YOUR AGE! IF IT HAD NOT BEEN FOR YOUR BROTHER, YOU WOULD HAVE HER BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS, AND WE WOULD BE HORRIFIED WITH YOUR ACTIONS?!" Harry scowled at the reference to him. "IF THIS _EVER_ HAPPENS AGAIN, WE WILL BRING YOU _STRAIGHT BACK HOME! _YOUR FATHER IS HORRIFIED WITH YOUR BEHAVIOR, HE BLAMES HIMSELF FOR THE WAY YOU ARE ACTING, BE GLAD THAT 3 MONTHS OF DETENTION IS ALL YOU ARE GETTING!"

Other than the slight annoyance at his _mother_, Harry was pleased by that scene. His brother, on the other hand, was fuming.

-()()()-

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" Was the greeting that Harry received as he opened his door on the day after Christmas Eve.

"Merlin!" He cursed as he jumped back, heart racing. "Bloody hell, girls. I _just_ woke up."

"Don't you ever wear a shirt, Harry?" Daphne asked, as coolly as could be expected. Once more, Harry had no idea the effect that he had on the girls as he stood there in only a pair of sweatpants.

"When I'm sleeping? No." Harry responded, stepping away from the door. "Please, come in."

The girls, yet again, were shocked by the changes and moderations Harry had made to his room. It was about half the size of either house's common room; showing his abilities in charms. A large bed was resting against the far wall, a desk on another and a large chest to the side of that. He also had a couch large enough to seat 5 people comfortably, and a television that he had carved runes into the side of, allowing it to work perfectly even in the magic rich environment of Hogwarts.

"So, how did you all meet up before 7am?" He checked the clock, before asking, looking particularly at the two Ravenclaws.

"We arranged it yesterday." Tracy answered with a smile, as she crawled into the recently vacated bed of her best male friend.

"Oh, come on Trace! That's _my_ bed!" Harry whined.

"Then join me." She mumbled from beneath the covers. Had they been able to see her face, the others would have noted the peculiar shade of scarlet the brunette's face turned as she realised what she had just said. Well, 4 of them would have. Harry wouldn't have noticed.

He shrugged and climbed in alongside the curled up girl.

Caroline, Daphne and Jasmine watched with wide eyes as the two went back into a deep slumber. Astoria joined them quickly, not seeing any harm in what she was doing. Jasmine had one of her _moments_ as she decided that she felt left out. She wandered over to the bed and clambered joined the three. Caroline and Daphne looked to each other, before Daphne exhaled loudly, Caroline fought her flush, and the two slid under the covers too.

-_-_-()()-_-_-

'What a little moron.' Harry commented to himself silently. The three of these firsties were actually dumb enough to come down here on their own. Against a Professor, even one who was as pathetic as Quirrell, they stood _no_ chance. Not to mention the fact that Harry was sure they thought Snape had been the teacher responsible. If Snape had wanted them dead, a simple _Sectumsempra_ would more than likely deal with the trio in a single blow. Now, Thomas Potter was down here on his own.

Luckily, Harry had overheard them. Now, he was hidden under the cloak he had enchanted as an invisibility covering. Unluckily, Harry wasn't confident that he'd beat the Death Eater in front of him in this form. The cat would be capable if he had the element of surprise, but in the time it took to change, Harry would be hit with the killing curse. He wasn't going to die for his arrogant younger sibling. Nor to protect the fake stone. Why would the Flamels let Dumbledore put the real on in his little trap/test?

Oh. Looked like his brother was saved, then. Harry saw the conversation end as Quirrell started speaking to himself. The defence Professor raised his hands and began removing the turban from his head. Harry's trap was triggered.

As Quirrell had walked through the doorway, a series of runes had transferred onto his person, complete with a trigger of removing his head gear.

The first activated as a disturbing face was revealed. The material twisted, and wrapped around it's master's throat. The bald man scratched wildly at the cloth, and the other end of the turban curled around his wrists, trapping them and preventing any other action from the limbs.

"What are you doing, you little- ARGH!" He was cut off by his throat constricting further, before the robes he was wearing jumped up, curling around his head and blocking his view. The collar tightened, especially.

The collar started burning, and set itself on fire, unnaturally hot. The skin and flesh melted, and his throat was damaged irreparably. He began making strangling noises, before the robe fell back down, and the turban fell to the floor along with it.

Quirrell's face turned purple, and he dropped to his knees, hands clawing at his throat as he struggled to breath. Harry vanished through the nearest wall, no longer caring, as Thomas Potter watched one of his teachers die, utterly confused.

It irritated Harry greatly that the boy-who-lived later took credit for saving the 'precious artefact', and then was awarded by the headmaster just enough points to rob Slytherin of their favouritism; had Harry known that would happen, he'd of recorded the event, and stopped the little bugger from taking credit for his work. Of course, he couldn't of taken credit himself; Harry _was_ popular, of course, but even so he was still a Slytherin. A _Slytherin _killing a Professor, even one with Voldemort stuck in the back of his head would, instantly, be labelled as _evil_. Unlike the newly crowned golden boy of Gryffindor.

The applause was annoying as hell. At least when Ravenclaw beat them, they were gracious about it.

-()()-

"Harry, wake up. We're at the station." Tracy shook her friend lightly, watching unsurprised as his eyes shot open, and snapped onto her own.

"Ugh, 5 more minutes, Trace." He closed his eyes again, after finding no threat.

"Potter." Daphne poked him in the side. "Get up."

"No..." He groaned, leaning further into the wall.

Jasmine plopped down onto Harry's lap, shocking him and inspiring a slight grunt of surprise, and elbowed him in the stomach. She then stood and the girls pulled him off the chair.

"Fine, bullies..."He stood and stretched, before he walked out of the cabin. "What are you waiting for, come on."

"Potter!" Daphne barked, just as Harry was about to leave. The ebony haired boy turned and found her stood there, arms crossed and tapping her foot.

"Trunks?" He asked.

"Trunks." Daphne confirmed. Her male friend easily removed them for the 4 girls, and tapped each, shrinking and lightening each without any of the pesky repercussions that the others would get from using magic outside of school, due to the runes he had applied to each.

-()-

Adelaide Greengrass watched her self proclaimed son's retreating figure with a sad frown. Why he had to leave for half of each summer, she didn't quite understand, but at least she was certain that he'd be safe. Her girls were reacting in a similar way, though each of them had a slight glare marring their pretty features as they were angry with each other.

It was easy for Lady Greengrass to see why they were upset. It'd be difficult for her husband, sure, but she saw the competitive expression that Caroline, Tracy and Daphne shared as Jasmine kissed Harry on the cheek. Then, the four repeated her actions, each lingering slightly, and shot a scowl at their female friend. The start of a war between them was imminent.

-(_)-(_)-

'God damn it. How in Merlin's name do we share the same blood?' Yet again, Harry's shameful little brother had rushed into the danger head along. Now, how was he going to avoid having the little shit take credit for the work he was about to do?

A truth rune? That'd work, he supposed. And if Harry's little brother happened to get in trouble because he happened to blurt out something that was worthy of punishment, all the better.

Harry felt his body shift into another form just as he hissed _"Open"_ at the doorway in Parseltongue, following Thomas' path into the chamber of secrets. The dank smell hit him in the damp hall and Harry cringed, his heightened senses made him more susceptible to the effects this had. As the segment of wall moved apart, Harry rushed through, taking the most recently developed animal he could use. A tiny bird, one that he himself knew to be the Peregrine Falcon, flew unnoticed into the air and observed the scene below, circling the statue and people beneath.

Harry watched as Thomas talked to the odd person with him. He was wearing a Slytherin uniform, but Harry definitely did not recognise the boy. In fact, he was shimmering slightly. Not a ghost, obviously, but perhaps something similar. The diary lying discarded on the floor certainly seemed significant to the Animagus. But his attention was quickly removed from the object when he heard the stranger hiss to the massive statue of Salazar Slytherin.

"_Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the four!"_

The mouth did, indeed, open. But no words escaped the cavern. In fact, what came out shouldn't have surprised Harry. A massive serpent slithered out of who-knows-where, and obeyed the command to attack that came forth from 'Tom Riddle'.

'Well, at least Thomas isn't a complete moron.' Harry thought as he scampered away from the Basilisk. Harry briefly contemplated letting his brother in blood just die, but decided he would have felt bad for leaving the little Weasley girl down here.

The Peregrine Falcon swooped downwards, arching toward the massive beast at 200mph, distracting the snake.

"Hah!" The young Voldemort laughed at the feeble attempt. "What do you think that such a minuscule creature could do to the king of snakes?!"

He was right in that assessment. The bird barely weighed 2lbs, it certainly wasn't built for this type of conflict. Luckily, that hadn't been the plan Harry had.

"Ignore the bird, focus on the boy! The boy is all that matters!" Riddle screamed at the snake. Apparently forgetting Parseltongue in his rush. As he finished, the young version of the Dark Lord watched as the bird turned in mid air, tucking it's wings into an even faster dive, approaching the 300mph mark. The teenager smirked at the idiocy.

That smirk vanished as the bird's body shifted. The black feathers became just as dark fur, and the body grew unreasonably. From 23 inches to 8ft. The prehistoric cat plummeted toward Slytherin's monster at the massive speed ad slammed into the snake. The thing weighed 800 odd pounds. A weight that was very useful when it crashed into the other predator in the room.

The snake was thrown off balance, with a very large cat latched onto it's face, long canines digging behind a vulnerable scale in the snake's forehead. With a frustrated growl, Harry managed to tear said scale loose. He bit into the vulnerable spot, and ripped it apart. The flesh tore from the skull underneath, and exposed the bone.

Pondering how he was to go about getting through the hard material; he couldn't get the angle to pierce it properly, after all, Harry spotted a glint of silver in a ratty, worn out hat.

Discounting the fact that he didn't know _how_ the sword got there, the feline leapt, with the grace you would expect from a cat, over to the sorting hat, and shifted form again.

His mass decreased significantly, to less than 200lbs, but his body widened greatly, his length shortened to about 4ft, and his height increased slightly to 6ft 6. The wingspan of the Argentavis was truly amazing at 23 feet. Scooping up the sword of Gryffindor, the massive bird flew toward the snake, and changed to the tall-ish human form of Harry Potter, gripping the blade in his hands. With a swift motion, Harry plunged the goblin-made blade into the serpent's brain.

Thomas Potter wondered who this was; he couldn't see any real features other than the unsurprising obsidian hair. He hopped back, using the transferred grace from his forms, and flipped over, landing, once more, as the sabre-tooth black cat.

The snake flailed briefly, before it slowed, dropped heavily, and died. Turning, Harry ran at his brother, sheathed his claws, and batted him over the head. As tempting as it was to tear his throat out, that wouldn't be a good idea.

Turning back, Harry stood, stretching as he did so, and faced Tom Riddle.

"So, you're Lord Voldemort, huh?"

"I'm Lord Voldemort as he was at 16, yes." Riddle replied as Harry moved over toward the corpse of the Basilisk.

"Huh. Why'd you choose Ginny Weasley to leech your energy from? Surely an older, more powerful student'd be a better idea." He shrugged at this point. "Of course, she'll probably be strong in the future; the first Weasley witch in what? Seven generations? But certainly not yet."

"I would be inclined to agree with you. But one of my _followers_ gave her the diary. Not on my orders, mind you." He growled out. "What are you doing." Harry wrenched a tooth out of the snake's mouth. Harry moved over to the diary quickly. "Wait!"

"Sorry, Riddle, I value the life of an innocent 11 year old girl far more than that of a homicidal racist." He knelt next to the diary and plunged the fang into the black cover. The boy, as well as the diary, screamed, and ink spurted from the torn pages.

"Hmm." Harry turned to the unconscious figures in the chamber. "Now how do I get you two out of here?"

-()-

James Potter looked far more sullen than he ever had in Sirius Black's memory. He wished he could be surprised about that reaction, but he was well aware of the cause. The two aurors were stationed at Hogwarts this year, in addition to the dementors released to prevent the rat and the psycho from infiltrating the grounds.

Pettigrew had turned into a rat in a fit of panic, and, in what could be considered a fit of genius from one so intellectually challenged, thought to free Bellatrix, figuring having her release on his record would help him to gain favour when, and if, he found his master.

It was theorised that they would try to take revenge on Thomas, and therefore the highest protection was given to their saviour.

But Thomas was not why the Lord Black's best friend was upset. No, that was his eldest. The OWL year student had ignored Lord Potter throughout the year. Not once responding to the calls of James. Nor Sirius, for that matter. Even Remus, who was one of the boy's teachers, was barely given the time of day.

However, that mattered little at the moment, since the two captain aurors had just checked the map, and found, to their horror, that Thomas and friends were fleeing for their lives.

Not from the Death Eaters, no. They were running from Remus.

"Moony! Stop!" James screamed at his childhood friend. Actually, that was quite effective. Not in that it stopped the werewolf, but in that it drew the attention from the fleeing trio and onto the pair of Animaguses.

"Get ready, James." The messy haired man nodded, and the two changed forms. They could match the wolf, most likely beat it, when put together. But they had to do that all while stopping it from getting any of the wizarding children. They were at a serious disadvantage.

And that disadvantage was why James was injured by their changed friend. The wolf bit down on his side as the Animagus threw himself in front of his idiot son.

Thomas Potter had done his best to 'help' the two by rushing back and attacking the werewolf. This kid really annoyed Sirius, but he had no choice in the matter as he attacked his friend wildly, trying desperately, and succeeding, to get his attention back onto the perceived threat.

The wolf pursued the dog through the grounds; obviously wanting desperately to kill the nuisance. Sirius Black now knew that he was screwed.

Completely and utterly screwed.

He led the werewolf into the woods; the most sensible idea he could come up with, to try to find something else for it to fight. He wasn't expecting the answer to his prayers to come sprinting out of the forest at him and his pursuer.

It was another wolf. Some kind of wolf, anyway.

Remus was massive compared to an average wolf, the same as next to every werewolf. In fact, Sirius was sure that Remus was large for a werewolf. But this wolf was bigger.

Definitely bigger.

And scarier.

The moonlight highlighted the raven furred wolf as it charged toward the dog-wolf pair, and Sirius leapt out of it's path, catching a glimpse of it colliding with the werewolf in front. The creature seemed just about fully grown, though maybe it would fill out in the shoulders some more, but the not quite adult creature was clearly winning the brawl. It and Remus both reared back onto their hind legs and tore at each other, but the larger wolf did much more damage as his razor sharp claws tore chunks from the other's body.

With a pathetic whimper, Moony turned and fled, instincts outweighing bloodlust as he headed into the forest at a quick pace.

The mystery wolf turned to face the downed dog that was still, barely, conscious, and let out a rumbling growl. Sirius scrambled to his feet, favouring his right side as his left had been torn into slightly in the first bout against Remus, and further aggravated by the running.

Grey eyes locked onto emerald, and the wolf turned, dismissively, and jogged into the forest.

-()()-

"James! I'm _telling _you, it was Lily! Lily saved me!"

"Padfoot, I've said before, Lily's form is a doe. It's definitely _not_ a, in your words, _big ass wolf_!"

"It's possible to have more than one form, James! All the books say that!"

"And it's incredibly rare for someone to have more than one! They say that, too! Not to mention Lily discovering one just out of school, and the other _now_!" James Potter shook his head. "Besides, you said that the wolf was _black_. Lily's hair is _red_!"

This entire conversation took place in hushed, but urgent, tones at the head table. Luckily, the roar of conversation had hidden it from everyone but the headmaster sat next to Sirius, as a way to show the importance of the security the ministry provided.

Sirius' eyes drifted over the students, from Gryffindor, over the other houses, to Slytherin. There, he happened to meet the eyes of another emerald-eyed Potter, as opposed to the hazel both other males of the family had.

"Holy shit! It was Harry!" Sirius exclaimed, turning to his childhood friend with shock written on his features. That shock was quickly copied onto James' face, as the headmaster looked on with a knowing twinkle. Then, James grinned widely.

"Takin' after his old man!"

"Don't forget his Godfather, Prongs! His form's more similar to mine, after all!"

"Yeah." James snorted. "Just a better version!"

"Hey!" Sirius barked indignantly. "Snuffles is a chick magnet! His one, we need a name for him, by the way, would just scare them all off!"

"Whatever you say, Padfoot, whatever you say..."

The headmaster chuckled, as he wondered just what forms Harry Potter had. None were easy for him to recognise so far. Well, the small, and very speedy, falcon was easy enough, but none of the others had been turned up in his enquiries so far. Just how strong was the popular Slytherin, anyway? Dumbledore's eyes twinkled curiously.

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	4. Quiddich World Cup

**Here's an update, I was glad to receive so many follows and favourites, and the reviews too.**

**Just one thing; I'm happy to receive criticism, but please phrase it in a constructive way.**

**The first 3 chapters were basically just a prologue, so I've changed their names to reflect that.**

**People brought up Hermione being in the golden-trio; I've added to the Quidditch scene in the last chapter to explain.**

**I'll be using some flashbacks in later chapters, too, in order to give more detail to the story. I just wanted to get to the main body sooner rather than later.**

**I've used a couple of clichés in this chapter, sorry if that annoys anybody. It shouldn't take anything away from the chapter, the clichés, I believe, are clichés 'cause they're entertaining and useful.**

**I own nothing you recognise. I hope you enjoy**

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_The ground shook as a muggle group, sitting in a jeep in the middle of the African plains, heard their loocal tour guide let out a panicked yell, and called them to "Buckle your seatbelts!" as he stepped on the gas, driving away as fast as the heavy car could take them._

"_Mommy, what's going on?" A little girl questioned, noticing the panic._

_The girl's mother was about to answer that she wasn't sure, but that they were safe, when she was cut off before she began._

"_Elephants!" The grey skinned mammals were in a stampede, running for their lives from _something_, and the group quickly became unsettled by the implication. What the hell were they running from?_

_A chilling howl rung across the plains, and the driver/tour guide began jabbering away into his hand held radio; the word that stood out, was "Ilimu"._

_The driver did not slow until they reached civilisation. Something had him terrified._

-()()())()()(-

The girls clapped politely along with the crowd, as the group was sat in one of the top boxes; along with some important Bulgarian ministry workers and several enthusiastic Irishmen.

A 16 year old Harry Potter watched, cautiously, in case a fight broke out between the opposing Quidditch fans. The glares that were being shot at the the Irish by the Bulgarians were not inspiring confidence in him that they'd get out of this box without being obstructed by a vicious brawl.

The elder Greengrasses ushered the 4 out, just as the first punch was thrown, and Harry chuckled at the indignant yell, followed by a loud grunt of someone being hit. He stretched, from the lengthy sitting motionless, and yawned widely.

The 4 girls glared at each other slightly at this time, as well as at next to every other female in the vicinity. Not an uncommon sight nowadays. The competition between the 4 had heated up even further in recent weeks, and they would not stand by and lose their friend to an _outsider_.

As they walked down the stairs, and out of the stadium, the celebrations had, remarkably, already begun. The Irish were cheering, singing and, living up to their stereotype, getting as drunk as a cheerful crowd of skunks.

Not one of the Greengrass group was invested in the outcome, they were here because Andrew had been gifted with the seats, and it was an event worth seeing. Once every 4 years was certainly a worthwhile phenomenon after all; and the family and the surrogate children _were_ fond of Quidditch in general.

They entered the tent that was shared between the entire group, and sat down to discuss the match, far more reserved than the red headed family that was, at the same time, sitting down in a wave of chaos, with everyone chattering over each other as the youngest male revered Krum.

-)(_)(-

Later on that night, Harry Potter woke with a start, as he heard panicked screams. His superior senses catching them before anyone else in the tent.

"Andrew!" He yelled out as he rushed into the living area, dressed only in silk pyjama bottoms and a dragon hide wand-holster.

7 sleepy people emerged as his voice rang through the tent.

"Harry? What is it?" Andrew asked his charge. He had woken more fully than the others by this point, knowing that Harry must have a good reason for calling for him in the middle of the night.

"Something's going on. People are screaming."

"Are you sure it's not just a celebration?"

"Certain. They're terrified." He said, matter of factly. There was no doubt about the familiar noises and what they meant.

"Okay. Take the girls and head for the woods." His charge gritted his teeth at that. "We'll," He gestured to himself and his wife, "Go give any assistance that they need." His wife nodded and went about dressing properly for what was to come.

"You _know_ I can help, Andrew."

"You're under-age, Harry. I need you to take the girls, and get them to safety." He said, sternly. After a brief staring contest, Harry relented and turned to the girls.

"C'mon. We need to go, preferably before they get here." He would gladly fight himself, but Harry would be damned if he'd let one of them get hurt because of his own bloodlust. "You all got your wands?"

"Yes." Was chorused 5 times, each had had that necessity drilled into their heads over the years, Andrew having taught them never to go anywhere without the weapon of choice for wizards, and Harry nodded; taking charge of their little group.

"Let's get going then; leave anything else." Daphne took Astoria's hand as they headed to the exit. "Shit!" Harry cursed suddenly. "Andrew, Adelaide, they're in the camp site!" He called to the two in their bedrooms.

Harry pulled out a deck of cards from mid-air, and undid the band holding them together, shuffling them into a more useful order..

"Get going! Do not stop, you here me?" Lord Greengrass called back. There were _very_ few people Harry would take an order from; but Andrew had more of his respect than just about anybody else. Meaning he'd do his best to obey.

"Sure."

The 6 under-age magical folk exited the tent quickly, and set off through the tents, ignoring the flashes of light in the distance as they did so. As they ran through, they realised just how far the tent was from the woodland, and fear crept up on a few of them. Well, on 5 of them.

They moved through a dense grouping of tents, Harry leading, and did what they could to maintain their speed as they could as they were slightly obstructed. As they emerged, the group heard a trio of dlurred shouts directed at them.

"Hey, prrretty llittle things! Stop rrr-right the-re!"

"Llook at thhhose swweet lookkin' gals!"

"We're gonnnna hhave sso-me fun!"

The group turned and saw 3 cloaked figures, with white Death Eater masks showing just barely.

All three were slightly slurred from alcohol, but the three still had the ability to cast a _reducto _at the ground in front of the 6.

"You..." He slurred, gesturing at Harry. "Get lost, we don't swing that way." The other two had decided to pre-emptively get undressed, apparently, as they were struggling to remove their robes while still wearing the masks. Morons.

"You people are pathetic." Harry stated, in a bored tone. "If I felt inclined, I would simply inform you that 2 of these girls are daughters of a noble house, the other 3 are protected by it, and all 5 have another's heir that pledges their protection, as well. But for you? Fuck that. You pieces of filth do not deserve the chance to stand down." The three seemed to struggle to understand what he was saying, but the two with their heads covered by cloaks stopped struggling, comprehending that this would likely end badly. If they were caught, they'd be sent to Askaban for sure.

Harry drew the deck of playing cards and picked the three from the top. He threw the first at the foremost Death Eater, who was struggling to find a response to the insults, and had begun to raise his wand in response. The card connected to the man's shoulder, and a rune glowed platinum on the face of the paper.

The man let out a shriek of pain as an invisible sword sliced through his upper arm, and the limb fell twitching to the ground. He tilted his head as though staring at the now disconnected appendage, and promptly passed out.

The next man was struck in the chest by the card Harry tossed at him, and felt a dozen bludgers slam into his midsection, before he was sent into unconsciousness along with his buddy. The last, the card seemed to miss, striking the ground at his feet instead. Then, however, an earth-made chain extended from the ground, and wrapped quickly around his midsection, crushing his ribs and maintaining it's grip as the man fell, twitching, to the ground.

"C'mon." Harry started off again, and the girls followed him with slightly shocked, though ultimately satisfied, expressions on their faces.

Harry led the group once again, this time with a single card ready in his hands as he anticipated another fight coming soon. An unfounded feeling, but one that he trusted. As it turns out; he was correct.

The group was nearing their goal; the wooded area, when they heard a duo of pain-filled, female, screams and a yell of anger. The 6 rounded a tent and entered into a clearing, and Harry turned as he heard Caroline murmer.

"Fleur... Gabby..."

In front of them, was a group of 13 Death Eaters, each with their wands drawn and once more in varying states of dress, surrounding a trio of girls, while a pair of them was restraining a man who was in a partial body bind, with the spell being applied repeatedly in order to avoid him escaping, at the same time. Harry felt his magic flare as he saw the fact that the girls had been seemingly silenced, and a silver haired girl was curled around what seemed to be her little sister, based on the resemblance, writhing in agony as a masked man held her under the Cruciatus curse. The teenage girl's mother was in a similar situation off to the side, trying to throw the curse off in order to help her daughters.

Harry reacted after he saw another, very nearly naked, 'Eater send a weak cutting charm at the elder sister, tearing her clothes off as he did so, and begin an approach to her.

"I'm 'aving 'er first. You can take ze ozzers if you want, just keep Delacour facing zees way. I want 'im to _watch_."The man said in heavily accented English, revealing that he was from France; explaining that he likely had a grudge with the family personally.

The crowd did not notice the six watching, as Harry turned to the others, locking eyes with Caroline, who gave a him pleading look to help her friends. The Redhead had often spent time in France with this family, who had been old friends of her parents before their untimely deaths. By happen-stance she had found them in pain, and definitely did not want to abandon them now.

"Please can we help them?" Caroline murmured to Harry. The boy glanced at Astoria, and frowned slightly.

"Of course. Jasmine? Tracy?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you two and Astoria hide behind the tents for a second?" Astoria because she was significantly younger, and would just get hurt. The other two because they were less inclined to use curses, either out of being suited to charms or out of being a pacifist.

The two reluctantly agreed, understanding the logic, and Harry darted out, getting a better shot at the crowd of Death Eaters while Daphne and Caroline prepared to hit them from the other side as soon as Harry needed help. Of course, that was assuming that he would have needed that help. Something that was rendered moot as he saw another Death Eater approach the youngest female.

This one, too, cast a cutting hex at the clothing of the 8 year old girl, and the clothes fell apart as he began to remove his own down to a apir of stained boxers. Bending over, grabbing at Gabrielle and clawing at the little girl's underwear, he pulled down his own.

"_Concuss!"_ Harry roared, stabbing his wand in a fierce motion toward the two would-be-rapists.

A cone of energy distorted the air in front of Harry Potter, and slammed into the standing Death Eaters fiercely, sending them all flying with the concussive force. Luckily, the floored family was unaffected by the chest-level spell, and instead were just surprised by the sailing Death Eaters passing over their heads.

The curse was centred on the peadophile Death-Eater, and Harry didn't flinch as the man's skeleton gave way, and he hit the ground like a waterbed, ripples going through his unsupported body.

Harry sent stunner after stunner at the bastards, each rendering one unconscious as he did. This, however, did little in the way of intimidation, as they hopped back up and began throwing more dangerous curses back at him.

He stepped to the side as a particularly nasty, venomous purple spell shot towards his chest, being one of the first to be on target; the wizards were rather bad shots in their inebriated states, after all. The spell splashed against a tent and the area around it began blackening quickly, before the entire structure dissolved into dust.

Transfiguring a wall from the Earth in front of him, Harry began blasting chunks of the earth at his enemies, knocking them out, and potentially injuring them seriously, as he did so.

Reparing the wall, and repeating the process, he charmed the debris to pursue the 'Eaters, in a similar manner to the bludger that had followed his brother in Harry's 4th year. The chunks flew at the group, and the drunkards did not think to use their magic to eliminate the threat, which would have been very easy for even the least skilled fully grown wizard.

Panicking, the drunk men scooped up their comrades, other than the dead man, and fled; ducking and zigzagging away from the flying chunks of earth. Harry would have pursued the cowards, had the family not needed help as soon as possible. While he had never been hit with the curse himself, he was told that it could drive even the best of wizards insane with prolonged exposure. He jogged over to the whimpering and twitching family, taking just a moment to remove the body-bind from the man before he reached the twitching girl; who appeared to be the same age as he and the other 5.

Reaching into mid air, he pulled a pain-relieving and restoring potion from his trunk, and knelt down next to the silver haired beauty, placing the vial to her lips, and tilting it slowly. Fleur's eyes fluttered shut as the agony began to come to an end. Emeralds the last thing she saw before she succumbed to sleep.

"Sir?" Sebastian Delacour turned to the form of his family's saviour; shocked to find him a boy no older than his eldest daughter. "I think your wife could use a potion, too." He handed the man a vial full of a royal blue potion.

Sebastian frowned slightly, not willing to simply take the boy's word for the potion being beneficial to hs tortured wife, but alleviated that with a couple of examining charms. The potion would help her greatly..

"Zank you." The French ministry worker replied, his voice strained and shaking slightly from anger. The man, remarkably, pulled himself together almost instantaneously, showing serious training. The 'Eaters must have caught him off guard.

"Do you think we should move? They may bring others back here." Harry questioned the older man.

"You are right. Do you know where we will be safe?"

"We were told that we aught to be safe in the woods."

"We?"

"Girls?" Harry called out in answer, and Caroline and Daphne, along with the others, who they had retrieved, emerged.

"Caroline?!" The shocked Franchman exclaimed.

"Hi, Mr Delacour. Are they alright?" She asked, forgoing a rely and pointing to the figures of Fleur, who was unconscious, and Gabrielle, who was curled into a ball, trying to escape the cold.

Tracy approached the small girl, and conjured a jacket for her, wrapping it around her small shoulders while soothingly whispering.

"Hey, sweetie. Don't worry; you're fine. The bad men are gone." The 8 year old latched onto the older English girl, and began babbling in French.

"Daph? What's she saying?" Tracy asked her best friend.

"She's thanking you over and over again." The blonde smirked at her friend. "Apparently she mistook you for Harry."

"What?! I don't look like Harry!" Tracy cried out, indignant.

"She's in shock, Trace." Harry interjected. "Everyone knows that you're a girl, forgive the little one." He said, cutting off any teasing.

Jasmine shivered visibly at this point. "Har, how are you not cold?" She asked him. "You're wearing next to nothing." Jasmine nodded her head at the boy's exposed torso.

"Jaz." Caroline shook her head. "You're barely wearing any more." The girl was wearing very short shorts and a tube top.

"Oh, huh..." Jasmine looked down at herself. "I could have sworn I had more clothes on."

"Here you go, Jaz." Harry said, and handed her a jacket that he summoned.

"Thank you!" She gave him a crushing hug at this, her gratitude disproportionate to Harry's actions.

"Ugh... You're welcome. Please let me breath a bit though." Harry groaned out. Jasmine stepped away, a sheepish expression on her face. "Okay, Sir, how are we going to do this?" Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the obvious solution to the problem, then sighed. He supposed that the boy had proven himself to be at least somewhat trustworthy. He _had_ saved his family from a horrid fate, after all.

"Can you, Tracy, was it? Yes, can you take my youngest, please? Since she's already holding onto you, and all." He received a nod on return. "Caroline, can you give me a 'and with Appolline?" The Frenchman grimaced as he looked at his leg. "Zey 'it me with a cutting curse, I doubt I can take 'er weight with z_is_." He turned a mild glare on the shirtless boy in front of him, he wasn't in the mood to expect him to treat Fleur with care. "You look like you can carry my elder daughter, so I'm _trusting_ you to do so."

"An odd way to ask me for a favour, but I'm happy to help." Harry said, shrugging. He walked over to Fleur's prone form and conjured a blanket, that he then used to preserve her modesty, as he scooped her up with ease. "Lead the way." He nodded to the three without burdens, and they headed on, avoiding attention as much as they could, given that one of their number had now attracted attention from 20 odd Death Eaters.

The rest of their night was largely uneventful, other than the inevitable conversation that Harry and the male Delacour had when the group had reached safety.

"So... Why were they attacking you?" Harry asked after a lengthy silence. "At least the one seemed to be from France."

"I know." Sebastian sighed. "My wife," He looked fondly upon the unconscious silver-blonde woman; who had fallen unconscious along with Fleur. "She's a Veela; as you may 'ave noticed. Zey aren't happy zat we are making strides toward giving 'er people equal rights." At this, Daphne snorted, her mask absent tonight in wake of the stressful situations of tonight.

"Equal rights as _women_, you mean. That is far from _equal _rights." Sebastian smiled sadly. The girl had a valid point; females were treated as property in the wizarding world.

"Yes, you're right, Meess Greengrass. But Veela are treated as sub-human. Women are treated far better zan zose zat ze bigots in government refer to as 'alf-breeds. My wife eez an apt example of why she and 'er people are ze same as wizards."

"And the French attackers were the bigots?" Harry asked. The idea that they had contacts abroad was worrying.

"Something like zat, yes." Sebastian scowled. "Zey were aiming to 'make an example' out of uz."

"The Delacours are a noble family in France." Caroline explained. "They hold seats on their version of the Wizengamot and sell wine in both the muggle, and the wizarding, worlds."

"Right. Any idea who that guy was?" Harry queried of Sebastian.

"Non. I 'ave made enemies of a lot of ze racists." Lord Delacour shook his head, frowning at the thought. "I will need to talk to Fleur about ze tournament. Zis will not 'elp 'er warm up to me again." He added, mostly to himself.

"Fleur's upset with you?" Caroline questioned. "Why is that?"

"She 'as not mentioned to you?"

"We haven't written to each other for a few weeks." Caroline explained.

"Ah, I am sure she will not mind my telling you, then." His shoulders slumped a little at this, and he switched to French in an effort to avoid being overheard. _"The boy-who-lived. Apparently my father and his grandfather created a contract for the eldest female Delacour and the male Potter heir to be married. There was no female in my generation, so it has passed to the next."_ Sebastian scowled at the thought. _"The boy has insisted that he wants to 'have a Veela'. His knowing about the contract activated it, unfortunately."_

"_Why is it for Thomas, then?"_ Caroline queried, confused.

"_What do you mean? He's the Potter son and heir."_

"_No he's not. At least, not technically."_

"_Is he not the only Potter child?" _Sebastian was confused; the Potters had come to several French engagements, never had they brought another child with them.

"_No. Although it isn't surprising that the people in France are under that impression. The Potter heir ran away as a child; due to neglect."_ At this point, Caroline and Daphne were scowling visibly, the latter having been able to follow the conversation. Harry likely would have been less than happy, too, had he not been checking the surrounding area for danger.

"_Really? Do you know this heir?"_

"_You could say that, yes."_

"_Do you believe he is a better fit for Fleur?"_

"_Definitely, yes." _Caroline replied, running a hand over her face, and pointedly ignoring Daphne's glare.

"_How are you so sure?"_

"_Well, I know him as well as anybody does, and I am well aware of what Fleur's ideal man would be." _She gave a slightly amused look. _"And his saving her life, and her mother, father and sister would definitely not hurt."_

"_Saving her?... Wait, your shirtless friend?!"_

"_That's not necessarily how I would describe him, but yes; Harry is the elder Potter."_ Caroline shrugged, and her tone changed to one of slight hope. _"Besides, I doubt he'll be in any rush to wed."_ Sebastian caught onto the slight clues.

"_Hang on... If this will cause tension between the two of you; you really should talk to Fleur about this entire situation."_

"_I'll discuss it with the others; I'm sure we will get around to talking to Fleur about Harry." _

Daphne's thoughts were furious. Yet another girl was in the running. And this bitch had a magical contract on her side. She took a calming breath, it would not do to alienate the Delacour girl.

-(()())-

The 5 girls looked after by the Greengrass family was sat in a single compartment. The Prefect meeting had finished half an hour ago, and now they were sat around, talking quietly as time went on. Harry had gone off to change, in anticipation for the rush that would come in the toilets as they approached Hogwarts. The grils, likewise, were dressed in their school robes, and had moved onto the topic of the tournament that they had heard of from the Delacours.

The group was discussing the pros and cons of entering the contest; not for themselves, mind you, but for Harry. They unanimously agreed that he would be most likely to be victorious against whatever competition the schools brought along with them. He had proven that fact time and time again. Most recently during the Death-Eater incident. If the group asked him to, he would surely enter the contest. That would be beneficial to them and himself. And, though he never confirmed it, the 5 of them believed that he probably wanted, on some level, to prove himself to his estranged family. What better way than to become the tri-wizard champion?

On the other hand, though, there was still a very real risk if he did enter. The death toll was nothing to be made light of, what would they do if Harry was hurt or, Merlin forbid, killed in this? However, the group knew that it would be a good thing for everyone, other than the other schools, that is, if they were represented by someone of Harry Potter's calibre.

As they reached this conclusion, the door opened, revealing a blonde, arrogant ponce.

"Ah, the Greengrass sisters. What are you two doing with these orphans?" He asked, comically looking down his nose, with his head tilted upwards, as he did in order to show some form of _superiority_.

"Piss off Malfoy." Tracy said, irritated already.

"Ah, the slut's daughter dares talk to me?" He said, with a haughty smirk on his face.

The group knew what that was referring to, and there was no need to say that it upset those inside the cabin. Tracy's father had died quickly in the raid that killed the girl's parents, a merciful death. Her mother, though, had been _kept alive_ for a long time before her death.

"You think that your gorilla body guards will stop me from cursing that slimy smile off your face, Malfoy?" Astoria growled out. "Get. Out. Now."

"Ah-ah. That's not a very nice thing to say, sweet Tori." The younger Greengrass shuddered. "Crabbe. Goyle. I don't think anyone would blame you if you happened to... take revenge on her during the school year." The smirk grew further as he spoke, and was, soon after, wiped suddenly off his face.

"But, my ignorant little friends." Harry planted his hands on each of the bulky boys' shoulder, and their legs shook slightly at the sudden pressure. "The activity of _taking revenge_ does tend to increase the chances of your muscles being a little too strained to prevent falling down a flight of stairs and snapping your necks. So I'd have to _recommend_ avoiding such strenuous activities." He shoved them apart, stepping through the created gap, and continued.

"You aught to leave, blondie. I'd hate to assign detentions before we even arrive at school. Though I'm sure Hagrid'd be happy to help punish any people that were assigned there for threatening one of his favourite students." The Malfoy heir paled even further than normal as he heard the word 'Hagrid'. "That means _get out_." The boy, trying to maintain a sense of dignity, slowly scampered out of the cabin.

Harry dropped down onto the open seat in the compartment, and stretched. The feline aspect of his mind was responsible for that habit. The girls were shown that he had developed even further over the summer by his shirt riding up, and hinting at the etched muscles underneath.

Harry was happy, later on in the journey, to assign three detentions each to his brother, Malfoy, Crab and Ronald for brawling in the hallways. They would be working with Filtch to clean around the school, the specifics waiting to be given by the squib himself. The 4 were upset, but he cared little for any of them, and certainly not for their opinions.

-()()-

"Now, I have a very exciting announcement to make to you about this year. One that promises a lot of enjoyment to be had by all involved..."

Dumbledore left that statement hanging, increasing the anticipation that many people felt regarding this statement. Harry was bored at this point. He knew exactly what the old man was going to announce.

"This year, Hogwarts is going to host the Tri-Wizard tournament!"

For several beats, silence reigned through the Great Hall.

"You're joking!" One of the Weasley twins exclaimed. This set off the majority of the hall. Everyone laughed, even the Headmaster gave a chuckle.

"No, Mr Weasley, I assure you I am not. Although I did hear a good one over the summer. A Hag, a Troll and a Leprechaun walk into a bar- Ah, not important." Dumbledore cut himself off after Mcgonagall cleared her throat.

"As I was saying, this year, we will be hosting two other, very prestigious, schools. Durmstrang and Beuabaxtons. The students from the aforementioned schools, will be arriving at the end of next week in order to begin the other, friendlier competitions we will be holding, that we are sure will help improve foreign relations. These will include a duelling contest that you may begin applying for immediately; see Professor Flitwick if you are interested, and are at least a 4th year." The diminutive Professor waved enthusiastically. "As well as this, we will have an inter-school Quidditch tournament, see Madam Hooch to try out for one of the two Hogwarts teams, a trivia competition for those more interested in academics, and, as a more light-hearted event, we will be having a long running talent show."

Murmurs broke out throughout his soliloquy, people talking about what they were going to go in for, and who would do best in each. Who would 'bring glory' to Hogwarts.

"But, to get onto the main point of this announcement, we have made increased the volume of tasks in the main tournament by holding 6 as opposed to the 3 that have historically taken place. The competition promises to be extremely exciting, and promises that we will have an interesting year. However, the danger has promoted several precautions. We will, once more, be joined by the Aurors from our ministry, along with a squad from the French ministry, and a squadron of Bulgarian law enforcers. Thankfully, our minister has seen fit to remove the dementors from our grounds and, along with this, the number of Hogsmade trips will be increasing too, for our foreign friends to enjoy themselves in our famed town. But in the spirit of safety, we are restricting the entry of the Triwizard tournament to people who have, by the time they enter, passed their OWLs."

"What?!" Ronald Weasley exclaimed, while his older brothers wore matching grins at the prospect of entering, and in their minds winning, the contest. "That's not fair!" Did the 4th year expect it to be a chess tournament or something?

"I'm sorry if that upsets anybody, but it has been agreed by each school involved, as well as their respective ministries, that this criteria is necessary to prevent any excessive danger to the respective champions."

The Headmaster went on to introduce the auror captains from last year; James Potter and Sirius Black, much to Harry's annoyance, the new DADA professor; Alastor Moody, the new Muggle studies professor; Lily Potter, worsening Harry's mood even further (he thanked the powers that be that Lupin was kicked out last year), and the ministry workers in charge of the contest, Bagman and Crouch, who were attending for the single feast before the contest.

The chatter was making Harry's coming headache all the more prominent. It would be a _long_ year.

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**One more thing: The anonymous reviewer who used the name PaC brought up some issues I'd like to clarify. This is ****_not_**** a 'smut fic', no funny business occurred in the earlier chapter where they shared a bed. I specifically said that Harry ****_didn't_**** think of the girls in a sisterly manner, furthermore, he's not related to any of them. I got a little mixed up with the earlier book's chronology, but have fixed it now, and also clarified that Hermione did set the fire. Plus, I'm not aiming to make this scientifically accurate, sorry if that offends anyone.**

**I'm not trying to make Harry too overpowered, either; first year was a trap that Quirrell triggered, second was outsmarting a snake and striking quickly against the diary, and third, admittedly, was simply his form being stronger than Lupin's; since I ****_am_**** making him stronger than the weak/unremarkable Harry from Canon.**


	5. Back at Hogwarts

**I own nothing you recognise. **

**Please Favourite/Follow/Review.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter, if you've got any suggestions that would make you enjoy the story more, I'd be glad to hear them.**

_Mundungus Fletcher was stalking a prime target for robbery. _

_The 12 year old up ahead was dressed in very pristine robes, as he walked into a quiet street of Diagon Alley, looking around casually as he, presumably, waited for his family to finish shopping elsewhere._

_Greedy, beady little eyes locked onto the heavy, jingling coin purse tied to his belt, and Fletcher sped up, bumping into the boy, and snatching the Galleons with surprisingly nimble fingers._

_With a triumphant grin, the sweaty man walked off._

"_Give it back, sneak." A voice rang out, making the sweat-stains grow at the cold venom radiating from the words._

"_G-Give what back?" Mundungus asked, nervously as he turned to face the hard, emerald eyes._

"_My coin purse, you disgusting man." The pre-teen snarled._

"_I've no idea what you mean." Mundungus said, voice wavering only slightly._

"_You I'm going to give you _one_ chance to give me my money back, before I break your legs." Harry growled at the man. Mundungus met the fierce gaze, and gulped nervously as he felt something inspire primal fear in him._

"_Y-Yeah, fine!" He tossed the purse back, and scurried away as fast as his fat legs would carry him._

_-()()()()-(_)(_)-()()()()-_

"Harry! Harry!" A female voice called.

Crap.

Harry sped up, weaving between the crowd leaving the great hall after dinner, the day after Lily had been introduced to the school. He was more than a little annoyed by the fact that the woman was calling him _sweetie_, as though she was his _mother_.

The red head tried to follow her estranged son as he quickly moved through the crowd, but quickly found that the raven haired teen was far quicker than she, and watched as Harry slipped through the doors, and vanished.

Thankfully, to Lily anyway, she now had the rest of the school year, at least, to talk to him. She _would_ manage _this_ time.

"_Where is he then?!" James Potter demanded of the man in front of him, who was blocking the doorway from the head of house Potter. "I want to see my son!"_

_To his left, a teary eyed Lily Potter nee-Evans was on her tip toes, trying to see past the broad form of Andrew Greengrass; only to find the hallway behind to be empty. They must have been in another room._

"_He is not here Lord Potter. I would ask that you compose yourself." Andrew replied to the angered man, voice unemotive as he met James' gaze._

"_Compose myself?! Compose Myself?! You kidnapped my son you Bastard!" The male Potter yelled at the man he blamed for his heir's absence._

"Kidnapped_, you are accusing me of _Kidnapping _Harry?!" Andrew Greengrass lost his temper briefly. "He was alone for half a decade before we found him, Lord Potter. He chose to stay with us."_

"_He is our son!" Lily interjected. "What right do you have to have him live with you?!"_

"_Because he has chosen to do so. _We_ care enough about him to take him into account." He aimed the cheap shot at the 'parents' in front of him. "And, since Harry does not want to see either of you, and in fact is not here, I am going to have to ask you to vacate my property."_

"_You..." James growled out, through gritted teeth, before he just snarled at the bigger man and the two Potters stormed off; they had no foot to stand on given that Harry didn't seem to be present._

-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-

"Hey, Harry." Tracy collapsed onto the couch next to the ebony haired boy, and yawned widely. "Professor Potter's getting annoying in her pursuit of you, y'know." She leant her head on his shoulder, and curled into him slightly. Harry had noticed an increase in physical contact that the girls seemed to initiate with him. He wouldn't complain about it, he quite liked being close to them, but it seemed strange. People rarely acted so familiar with him.

He understood why guys avoided it. They would look at him like they were afraid he'd flip out beat them to a pulp. Not surprising; given the injuries he had sent a good percentage of Slytherin house to the Hospital wing with. Girls were stranger about it, though. They would redden and run away. It struck Harry as nervousness they displayed, though, and he had no idea why they'd be nervous.

"Is she bothering you, Trace?" He wrapped an arm around her, as he held the book with the other hand, taking his attention off the pages.

"Eh. A little, but I can handle it." She yawned yet again. "You looking forward to tonight?"

"You mean the other schools?"

"Yup."

"I'm sure it'll be interesting. I just hope none of our house embarrasses us." Harry said with a smirk.

"Oh, I _wonder_ who you could mean." The two knew that the reference was aimed at the Malfoy scion.

"A mystery." He chuckled. "So," He continued. "Who do you reckon is going to be on our Quiddich team?"

"Hmm. Assuming that every Quiddich player tried out... Almost definitely the Weasley Twins. They're the undisputed best beaters when paired." Harry nodded, agreeing with the assessment. "Keeper's up in the air, no really good ones left after the end of last year. Chasers... Well, there's you. Then it'll probably be two of the Gryffindor ones. Seeker, I don't really know between Diggory and Chang."

"I agree." He leaned his head on his friend's, and pondered aloud. "So, have you decided what you're going in for?" Harry asked.

"No... Maybe the academic? Although I'm not sure I'd fit in with that group."

"You wouldn't want to spend too long in the company of Granger, would you?" He asked, with a smirk. Tracy giggled in return.

"I'd end up silencing her, no doubt." She replied before sighing and saying. "I'll try for the duelling, anyway. No harm in going in for it."

"Well, don't you two look comfy?" A cold voice questioned, and the two looked up to meet the violet eyes of Daphne Greengrass.

"Hey, Daph. Did _Professor_ _Potter_ bother you, too?"

"Ugh." She took the seat on Harry's other side, and, more subtly, copied her best friend's actions in leaning against him. Harry's book vanished, seemingly into thin air, and he wrapped his arm around her too. "She's stubborn, you've got to give her that."

"It was bad enough with my _father_ here last year. This is going to get old _really_ quickly." Harry groaned out.

"Oy! Everyone get ready to head down for the greeting." It had reached 4:00pm by now, and the delegations were set to arrive within the hour. "We head down in 10 minutes!" The seventh year prefect called out. The three dropped their things off in their rooms, and met back at the entrance. The group of Slytherins arrived promptly down at the entrance hall.

-()()()-

"The lake! Look at the lake!" Lee Jordan called out.

From the black water, Harry and the others watched a old-timy, massive ship rise from the depths.

"Interesting." Harry commented as the ship revealed the entirety of itself. How did that work? Interesting summed up his thought process quite well.

"So that's Durmstrang, then." The group that exited was wearing thick coats, and marched uniformly up to the massive archway of a door, where the dislikeable headmaster and Dumbledore exchanged greetings.

"Thomas! That's Viktor Krum!" The youngest Weasley boy called out, to the delight of his prankster brothers who began mocking him with kissing noises. The delegation, lead by the surly Quidditch star, walked into the castle, as the two school's headmasters greeted each other. After a brief conversation, the crowd's attention was drawn elsewhere.

"In the sky!" Another voice called out, and sure enough there was a large, regal carriage pulled by a group of Pegasus. The students who emerged gave the impression of condescension as soon as Harry laid eyes on them. A shocking achievement; for the entire group to scream arrogance. A giant woman led the procession towards the Hogwarts delegation, standing at least the height of their resident half giant.

"Dumbleedoor!" The woman greeted, cheerfully. They exchanged pleasantries, that Harry paid no attention to, as the Beaubaxtons students came level with the group of Hogwarts students. They looked around with disgusted expressions, as the majority of males of the British school went slack jawed at the aura a beautiful blonde at the front of their procession was giving off.

Harry scowled at the expressions of his housemates, as he felt a tug at his subconsciousness; resisting the Veela allure as he shrugged the effects off. How disgusting the boys were. Half of them were openly drooling at the very presence of the French girl.

-()-

Harry sat, once again, bored in the hall. Dumbledore was mostly just repeating what he had previously said to his own students. Explaining the duelling contest especially, the competitors for which were to meet for the first time tomorrow, on the Saturday, to be divided into the brackets that they would be competing against.

As he sighed, he attracted attention from the, newly arrived, Durmstrang girls. They watched the handsome boy lean his head into his hand, and close his eyes. Only to be on the receiving end of the ice-queen's glare.

Dumbledore finally finished his speech, and food appeared in the centre of each long table.

Harry moved his attention to the Ravenclaw table, checking on his other friends, and found a source of amusement for himself.

A bright red faced pair of Gryffindor 4th years was what greeted a gorgeous blonde across the hall. She seemed to be asking for a dish that they had on the table, but had been treated to the-boy-who-lived's _charm_ and his best friend gaping at her. Thomas Potter seemed to think that the girl had an interest on him, as he grinned at her and patted the bench next to him. Then, he suddenly dissolved into a pile of drool, and his mouth hung open. Granger handed the French dish to Fleur Delacour with an apology, and the Veela turned to head back to Ravenclaw's table with a disgusted expression.

That look changed into one of recognition as her eyes met those of the other Potter student across the hall from her, and she had a reaction that certainly seemed out of place in her otherwise cold expression. Her cheeks became pink at the fact that she had, even briefly and unintentionally, looked at her, and her family's, saviour with such a look, not to mention the fact that she knew the handsome lad had carried her while she was both unconscious, and very nearly naked, right after he had seen her in such a pathetic state. Her mask came back on at the though that the male would probably think of her as just a weakling that needed to be rescued; a stereotype that was oft placed on Veela.

Well, that was part of the reason she had acted in such a manner, but she pushed the other reason out of her head, and focused on the undeniable.

Then, the boy smirked at her, and glanced to the-boy-who-lived behind her, grin growing at the embarrassment he no doubt suffered at that moment along with his annoying friend.

Harry turned to Daphne next to him, and murmured, with a smirk.

"Look at my brother." The ice-queen gave an uncharacteristic snort at the sight of the 'almighty saviour' in such a pitiful state, and shook her head.

"Pathetic."

"That about sums them up, yes." Harry grinned back. "The Veela girl we saved's here, then."

"That's right." Daphne frowned slightly at her statement. "And I think you mean _you _saved."

"Why does that upset you, Daph?" He asked his friend, confused at her minute, but still visible, reaction.

The violet eyed beauty turned to him with the frown still present, and shook her head.

"It's nothing. Don't worry." Now, it was Harry's turn to frown.

"You sure?" At her nod he relented. "Okay, but know you can talk to me if you want to."

"I know Harry, I know." The two fell back into silence as Harry piled meat onto his plate; a hint of his animagus forms and, this time, their diets.

-()()()()-

Poppy Pomphrey was hoping sincerely that the addition of these two new schools wouldn't change the repertoire that had been built up over the last three years.

Well, it had already been true for three out of four houses in Hogwarts, but she was happy to see the end of girls' coming into the hall with 'mystery injuries' that were obviously, to the Healer, from assaults of a sexual nature. That was a disgusting secret that had been true of the school for who knows how long. Likely since the time of the founders. Salazar's house had turned a blind eye to the rights, limited as they were, of Witches being violated.

Of course, the stopping of those injuries had been accompanied by an increase of visits from others.

_Flashback_

"_Umm... Madame Pomphrey?" She turned, to find a dozen Slytherin boys, made up of 6__th__ and 7__th__ year, standing nervously in the doorway, glancing around sheepishly as though to make sure not to be overheard._

"_Can I help you?" She frowned, and unconsciously her hand edged towards the pocket holding her wand. She was aware of their night-time _activities _with the girls from their house. She was unwilling to risk the same herself._

_Each of these boys had also paid a visit at the beginning of the year after falling down the stairs and seriously injuring themselves... a half dozen times at minimum._

"_Yes... you see..." One spoke up. "We're having... problems with our... you know our..." He gestured downwards non-committally and reddened. Oddly nervous for a male Slytherin._

"_You all are?" She questioned. That was an odd coincidence._

_The group nodded._

"_And what seems to be the problem? I assume you were referring to your genitalia?"_

_Nods again._

"_And are you going to tell me what the issue is?" Poppy almost snapped at the high year Slytherins._

"_They... uh... They aren't working?!" The same boy eep'd._

The fifth years had followed the next day, the year under a year after. Poppy Pomphrey had been unable to help any of them with their 'problem'.

The same group had turned up, in pairs, later in the year with various hexes and jinxes impairing them; claiming that they had been practising duelling and it had gone wrong. They hated the idea of admitting a third year bested them in a fight.

Needless to say that impotence, added to the copious amounts of pain that came with attempting to hurt any of the girls, warned the younger years away from carrying on the tradition.

-(_)()(_)-

The next day, Harry Potter woke up a little after noon., the weekend not requiring an early rise from the 6th year, and headed down in time for lunch. Yet again, his sleeping in was a habit he had received as a part of the package deal that was his animagus gifts.

The Great Hall was packed by this time, in anticipation of the duelling club that would be taking place early in the afternoon. As he walked into the hall, Harry felt the eyes of the majority of the hall fall upon him.

The attention he had received briefly the night before, namely from the girls who had not yet seen him, increased significantly as they got a good look at him and the way he carried himself.

Nobody could dispute Harry being attractive; he was likely the best looking male in the three schools, but that fact was largely unimportant as the ebony-haired wizard strode through the doors.

Fleur Delacour, along with the very limited group of friends she had from Beaubaxtons, watched the boy that had arrived late to the hall; intrigued by the odd aura he gave off. One of lethal grace that they had never seen before. Upon first glance, Harry Potter would appear nonchalant, _relaxed_ even, but if you watched him closely, at least as closely as many girls in the hall were, you would notice the slight tensing of his body. The subtle, yet significant, tautness.

'Alastor Moody', along with the few others in the Great Hall that had any experience with fighting, and more importantly _war_, knew that the tall male had experience in the art of death.

The only question was how.

It would seem odd to most that the headmaster accepted this boy as a student. Even made gave him a position of authority in being a prefect. But the elderly wizard was well aware of the boy and his heroic tendency; despite Harry's dislike for that aspect of himself. He had saved the-boy-who-lived, a person that he detested, at least twice in the Hogwarts career. Thrice if you counted the werewolf incident that may well ave resulted in Thomas' death from the year prior. The Greengrasses were a neutral family; and Harry had been heavily influenced by their teachings. While the boy likewise wasn't an avid supporter of Dumbledore and the light side, likely doubtful enough to accept a fight with the light wizards that practised such idolisation toward Albus, he had always been civil towards the Headmaster. Plus, Filius was influential to the elder Potter, at least, and that certainly suggested that the boy was not of the dark persuasion; the powerful wizard sincerely believed that Harry had a good heart. Even more so than he did with everyone.

Of course, Harry was a person to watch, Dumbledore could not refute the need to keep an eye on the Potter teen. He had foiled several of the situations that would have helped prepare his brother, something that had bothered the Headmaster to begin with, but when he thought back over the summer, Albus had easily realised that Thomas would likely have perished at least once by now; the younger boy was a true blue Gryffindor, charging blindly into danger would not help against a Basilisk. Granted, Harry's technique against the deadly serpent was far from subtle, odd for a Slytherin, but at least he'd utilised the element of surprise.

Come to think of it, subtlety would probably be less than useful against such a monster.

Even those that were cut from the red and gold cloth in school accepted the need for planning later on in life. The Headmaster was aware of the much more subtle method that he had seen from Thomas' memories of the 1st year incident. Harry would have put himself in a dangerous, and very likely losable, situation if he were to fight a death eater as a 3rd year, no matter how strong he was for his age. It was good to see that Harry had the common sense not to throw himself into such a situation. Unlike his younger brother.

Albus Percivel Wulfrick Brian Dumbledore reminisced on the one on one 'meeting' he had with Harry after the chamber of secrets incident.

_Albus had arrived back at school, having heard word of the students entering the chamber had scared the board into reinstating the extremely powerful headmaster, hoping to save themselves from the backlash that surely would have accompanied their compliance in expelling the strongest living wizard from the castle when they needed his help most._

_He had deduced where the chamber was while away; recalling the location of Myrtle's death. He was furious with himself for not realising the obvious connection earlier, but he had been occupied with other issues too much to investigate a girl's bathroom._

_Now, he was stood inside, watching the hole in the ground as a familiar aura came flying upwards. His old friend had still been able to help, at least._

_The flame bird floated up from the depths below with a regal grace, talons clutching a giddily grinning figure of Gilderoy Lockhart, and a heavy breathing Harry Potter. Lockhart was holding the collar of the youngest Potter, while the elder Potter held the bicep of the youngest male Weasley nonchalantly, and had the Weasley girl resting in his right arm._

"_Professor Lockhart? What is going on here?" Dumbledore questioned, flabbergasted at the notion that Gilderoy saved the children from Slytherin's monster. How could the fraud possibly have saved them?_

_Albus kept his gaze on the sparling-teethed man, who stared back for half a minute before he turned to Harry._

"_I think he's talking to you." The grinning man said._

"_Ugh." Harry sighed. "I found Weasley's wand next to him. His eyes were glazed and he was just sat there, sir. Either he got hit on the head by something, he got drunk and fell down the hole, or a memory charm backfired on him." Harry shook his head, the man was a fool._

"_Is that so?" Dumbledore focused on Harry, prodding very slightly at his mind with legilmency, to check the boy was truly himself. "And what happened down there, Harry?" The boy smiled at him and shrugged the best he could with his burden._

"_I'm not sure Professor. I turned up just as whatever happened finished. A guy had stabbed a fang into a little black book, that then screamed bloody murder, turned into some kind of little bird, and flew away."_

"_Really? And you have no idea who dealt with Sytherin's monster?" Albus was more than sceptical, but his eyes had a slight twinkle of amusement._

"_None at all, sir."_

Of course, that had been a lie. Albus had asked James and Lily for permission to retrieve Thomas' memory of the event, and had seen plain as day that the boy who killed the beast had been Harry. It wasn't exactly difficult to recognise the messy raven hair and the boy's profile.

Unaware of the Headmaster's train of thought, Harry strode toward the silver and green table, shifting uncomfortably at the number of eyes upon him. Why were they _always_ watching him?!

-()()()-

"... and those are the rules in a wizards' duel." The squeaky voice of Professor Flitwick finished "As a brief overview; you must stay inside the designated area on your end of the platform, using the spells you so choose to fight your opponent. In England, we have a ban on any spells designated as dark, these rules vary depending on the country, and this tournament will be ruled _against_ any lethal spells, or specifically illegal spellcasting. Because the laws in Britain are the most restrictive, it is simply, for any Hogwarts student, not to use lethal lethal intent, or dark spells." The diminutive Professor carried on speaking, hopping up and down in excitement from getting to discuss duelling, like the good old days. Easy enough for the potential British competitors.

"Now," Filius Flitwick continued. "To decide our representatives in this competition, we will have a tournament between each year, to find the top three of each. Those twelve will be our duellists." His grin grew even further. "Are there any questions?"

When nobody had any, the half goblin hopped down from his perch and headed over to the sheet of paper with the list of each student that desired the opportunity to be in the tournament. He picked it up and all but skipped over to a large blackboard over on one wall.

The Charms professor tapped his wand against the paper, then against the board, and chalk began spreading over the black surface; showing 12 brackets of students, each year having been split in two. They would, after this next demonstration, be sent off with their year group to begin competing. Not finishing, for sure, but they should get through the first round at least.

"Now. Since I am the only teacher here at the moment, I'll need a volunteer to assist me in showing the younger students how to properly duel. I believe that the demonstration that was given 2 years ago was less than helpful." Harry watched the little man's grin grow as he turned, pretending to scan the students, to face the raven haired 6th year. "Ah! Mr Potter, yes, you should do well!"

Those near Harry heard the boy let out a groan.

"Of course, Professor."

He climbed slowly onto the platform, and approached the centre of the long stage. The smaller man grinned at him as he, too, approached, and they stopped halfway down the length.

"Proper etiquette in duelling requires that the opponents bow to each other." Flitwick narrated. The two did so. "Then, you return to your designated ring." They went back to their circle, 12ft in diameter, and stopped as Filius spoke once more. "Next, the referee will count down to begin. In this case; I will do so myself. Now remember, Harry, this is just a demonstration. I may call 'time' in order for us to explain what is happening to any beginners in the audience." The professor smiled while Harry had a focused look on his face, stance relaxed. "Three... Two... One... Begin!"

"_Pavo! Engorgio! Oppugno!"_ Harry yelled loudly, with three swipes of his wand. 7 Peacocks charged toward the diminutive professor, growing massively.

The professor threw several blasting curses, and the Peacocks were destroyed with ease, only for a red bolt to fly at the half-goblin, a blue streak following, and the professor dodged easily aside. A powerful _reducto_ slammed into the ground in front of the charms professor, and rocks and dust flew up in a cloud, before it was charmed to race at the professor, preventing his visual.

The small professor shot a few minor jinxes at Harry, to keep him on his toes, and dissapated the cloud of dust before sending an _Expelliarmus_ at his 'opponent'. Harry, having dodged the nuisance spells, sent a strong gust of wind at the half-goblin. Flitwick sent a wind-breaker at the gust, and began dodging as Harry started rapid firing spells at the professor.

Flitwick narrowly dodged a stunner, and sent a trio of red bolts back at Harry, the target used a strong shield spell, and prepared to send an onslaught back at the professor, only for the second 'stunner' to tear open a hole in the shield, and for the third to catch the powerful student in the chest.

-()-

"_Rennervate."_ A high pitched voice uttered, and Harry's eyes shot open, and he sat up with a groan.

"You did well this time, Harry." Flitwick spoke loudly. "Does anyone know what he did wrong?!"

The majority of students were silent. A few 6th and 7th years murmured, and then a 4th year spoke up.

"He was against a more powerful opponent!" Hermione Granger called out, hand raised. Harry assumed that this was her brown-nosing, as he was told, though it may have been by biased sources, that the bushy-haired girl was a teachers pet.

"That is a possible reason. Do you believe that it was the case in this duel, Harry?" Filius turned to the boy, who shakily rose to his feet, righting his balance quickly enough with a shake of his head.

"No. You were the more skilled and experienced. Not to mention that you had the advantage in build." He shrugged, annoyed with himself for losing, but understanding why. He had entirely expected to lose this bout against the duelling champion. He'd lost count but it must be nearing 80-10. And those ten were questionable, given that he had used tactics that, while not _banned_, were heavily frowned upon in professional circles. "You used your advantages better than I used mine."

"Exactly. Winning a duel is, of course, dependant on magical power and skill, but more importantly is the certain _edge_ that everyone has. The advantages that you must utilise in real life in order to survive. The same can be said in a duel. For example, it is well known that Mr Potter is uncommonly powerful. Had he poured more power into the number of spells he could have sent, especially destructive ones, he may well have won." Harry snorted.

"Except for the fact that you don't use shields. I could probably overpower your defences, but you just scamper out of the way and dodge. Unless I destroyed your circle, or sent a wide range banishing spell; both of which'd be illegal by the way, since they'd most likely be fatal, I'd stand no chance of winning." Harry shook his head. He was more crass than most with his professors, and earned a disapproving frown from the 4th year Gryffindor because of it, but Flitwick had long since accepted that it was the same with all but a select few.

Minerva had explained that to him a few years ago

_There was a staff meeting taking place in the Headmaster's office that Thursday evening, and the heads of house had finished giving their reports to Dumbledore; now, they were moving on to the observations that anyone had made regarding behaviour. It was unfortunate that they could not do anything against perpetrators unless a victim came forth; an old rule from the founders to prevent any abuse of students, or certain incidents would have been severely punished years ago._

"_And what observations have you made regarding Thomas Potter?" Albus questioned Filius and the others present, eyes twinkling merrily._

_The third year professors shrugged, not knowing the boy; while Filus, Poppy, Pomona and Minerva's, being the nearest the Headmaster's desk, frowns were the most noticeable. Other than Severus' scowl, anyway. Albus looked shocked at the reactions briefly before he schooled his expression back into his kind-hearted one._

_Severus just muttered angrily about the boy being "As arrogant as his father.", but the other, less biased Professors also interjected their opinions on the 1__st__ year._

"_I have heard rumours of him bullying, Albus. He has used his fame to 'become the top of the food chain' so to speak." Minerva said, with a disapproving frown on her face._

"_More than just rumours!" Pomona exclaimed. "He's been reffering to my 'Puffs as 'useless' since he arrived, and I've had complaints regularly about him 'pranking' them. In very unpleasant ways, too!" She shot a small glare at the head of Gryffindor._

"_I am sorry, Pomona. I wish I could help, but Thomas has _convinced_ other students to give alibis for him on each occasion. And you know as well as I that insults are not enough to punish a student unless it causes serious emotional distress; else the derogatory term that is popular in Severus' house would have long since faded away." The plump woman gave a reluctant nod at the logic._

"_I've found the same to be true, Albus." Filius chirped. "He is less than pleasant to those in any other house; this includes my 'Claws, who he calls 'Nerds and Bookworms'. Fortunately, they have been told by the rest of my house that Thomas is not the Potter brother that they should be wary of!" Filius had a hint of pride at the mention of the older Potter. He had been on good terms throughout with the strong boy since his first year; Harry had known the half-goblin as a child, since Filius often consulted with Lily on matters in her ministry research job, and the young boy had found the strange looking man amusing in a manner that only a child could get away with; often referring to him as 'little manny!' when he was 3. It was unsurprising for the Charms' professor to be proud of Harry's progress, and power._

"_Speaking of young Harry," Dumbledore said, with his customary twinkle. "Minerva; you said that you had a theory regarding his... bluntness that most of us have observed in him in recent weeks." Minerva nodded and began._

"_Yes. As you've brought up before, Harry has registered with the ICW as an Animagus, correct?" The older wizard nodded. "Well, this is just a hypothesis as none of us know what Harry's form actually is, but I believe it must be some kind of pack animal and hunter. A wolf of some kind would be my guess, and that means that he views things, at least partially, in the manner that a wolf would."_

"_What does that mean?" Albus asked, likely for the sake of the others present._

"_He still gives you respect doesn't he, Albus?"_

"_He seems to, yes." The Headmaster confirmed with a nod._

"_Then he likely realises you are powerful enough to earn that respect. But he probably has no real reason to give any of us the same level." She had a disapproving tone. "Because of his wolf aspect, he pays heed to 'the Alpha'. That would, logically, still be you." She said, continuing with her addressing the Headmaster. "But even then, a part of him will question whether you have the youth required. If he was entirely a wolf, Harry would probably have challenged you at least once by now for the position."_

"_Do wolves not tend to respect their elders though, Minerva?"_

"_Again, this is speculation, but I think that he does, for the most part. Harry still attends lessons, showing he accepts that we are have experience that he may learn from. I think it's simply that he believes, like a canine would, that youth and athleticism is an advantage, and that us being older doesn't mean we are fit to 'lead'." Albus nodded, understanding the explanation, and the meeting continued on briefly before the Headmaster dismissed the teachers back to their chambers._

The charms professor split the group into their brackets, and then he moved them into pairs within for the first match-up. He gave instructions to half to wait off to the side and with a wave of his wand, enough rings for each pair to have two appeared on the floor.

Lee Jordan looked rather unhappy, to Harry. He was scowling quite visibly at the others around, jealous of their choice for opponent.

"This sucks." The Quiddich announcer grumbled.

"Yeah, but what are you gonna do?" Harry smirked at him. Evidently the boy had a inkling that Harry would beat him in the duel, and the animagus found that fact amusing.

The two approached, walking to the mid way point between their circles, and bowed at the waist. The two retreated back to their respective circles. The rest of the groups did the same, and once everyone was in position, Flitwick raised his wand, and a large number 3 appeared in the air.

...2

...1

...BEGIN!

There were various cries of incantations across the large classroom as people shot off their go to spell, but, as Lee swished his wand through the air, he saw a trio of ropes sailing toward him, intent to strangle, and panicked. He slashed his wand down, sending a cutting curse at them, and felt a slight satisfaction as the ropes fell, useless, to the ground.

A silent _impedimenta_ caught him in the chest, and Lee felt his legs fly back, as his front went forward. The ground rose to meet him as his unprotected face.

After feeling his nose break, Lee ahd an invisible force tug his left ankle, and yank him into the air; where he floated with his robes dangling and covering his face.

"I give! I give! You win!" Lee Jordan exclaimed, before he dropped unceremoniously back to the ground, while his opponent chuckled at the speed of their duel.

-(_)(_)-

"Congratulations, girls." Harry said, with a grin at the victorious 3 in front of him, Tracy, Daphne and Caroline having defeated heir opponents in the first round. Doubtless Jasmine would have, also, had she chosen to participate. As it was, she had stood with Harry as they watched the three in the second part of the duels.

"Yep! You did really well!" Jasmine added, with a victorious smirk, which was not visible to the boy she had her arm linked with. The other 3 glared at her as her smirk grew to a grin and she waggled her eyebrows at them. They were distracted as Harry let out an amused chuckle, and turned to ask him what it was.

"That's a good pairing." Harry smirked at the final fight that was going on.

The Weasley twins seemed to be evenly matched as they went head to head, each sending a stunner at their brother, the two of which collided and fizzled out in mid air. The one on the right, whichever brother it was, shot a Jelly-Leg jinx, followed by a disarming charm at the other, while his brother sent a tickling charm, and yet another _expelliarmus_ back in return. Both hit, and both wands flew off out of their wielders' hand.

The mid-air writing announced a tie as the end result, but the two ignored it, aiming to best their brother.

A giggling Weasley charged out of his ring, and engaged his brother muggle style. The attacker punched his sibling in the stomach, knocking his brother off his unsupportive legs and onto his back. The standing Weasley fell onto his back, cackling madly, and his opponent rolled over to begin punching at his twin. The two rolled over repeatedly, trying to get the upper hand in their brawl. The room, at this point, was full of laughter at the comical sight of the identical gingers playing fisticuffs.

With a wave of his wand, Flitwick, who was also grinning, separated the pair.

"You bastard!" Both Weasleys yelled. "You never talk to me again!" The pair spun on their heels, and stormed off.

"Gee." Tracy commented, sarcastically. "I wonder how long _that_ will last." The others laughed at the idea of one of their falling outs lasting more than a day.

**I hope you enjoyed this.**

**If not; once again please tell me why and I'll try to improve.**


	6. Talent?

**I own nothing you recognise.**

**Sorry, I meant to publish this over the weekend, but my internet's acting up a lot recently.**

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**Hope you enjoy.**

_A group, each riding horseback, was storming through the woods, following the sound of their hunting dogs as they pursued the persistent and cowardly fox in a game of sport. The adrenaline was rushing through each of them as they felt the thrill associated with the sport._

_To many it would seem barbaric; they had no real reason to go fox hunting after all, but the group themselves each felt it was all in good fun to rid themselves of the vermin, as well as being able to express their more 'masculine' desires in a controlled and civilised manner._

_However, their glee was quickly cancelled out as the yips and barks of their hounds rapidly grew near. Why were they returning? There was no reason for the fox to come this way, was there? Why else would the dogs be returning?_

_This train of thought was interrupted by a chilling howl that rang through the woods; echoing from seemingly every direction. The group let out a collective gulp of fear, and were more than a little glad when their horses bolted._

-()()-

'What the hell...' Harry wondered to himself, as he watched the Beaubaxtons girl across from him's mouth move at an unreasonable speed.

"...and I 'ave a seester called Charmaine; she's just turned 11 and eez starting at our school next year, she's annoyed zat 'er birthday means she _just_ misses out on attending zis year and so I 'ad to put up eith 'er complaining all zrough ze zummer. She just wouldn't shut up zroughout, and _I_ got een trouble when I snapped at 'er. 'Ow is zat fair? She was zo annoying! She dezerved eet!" The girl was rambling an awful lot. Harry had yet to say even a word, she... Alison, he believed the girl had called herself, had simply sat down and started yapping. Even weirder; the girl had yet to blink, eyes locked on his own emerald orbs. What the hell was she trying to achieve through talking so incessantly _at_ him? "... and my parents took 'er zide! Can you believe that?!" She didn't wait for a response. "Just because she eez leetle, zey alwayz take 'er side! 'Ow iz zat fair?!" From what Harry could tell, she had bullied the girl, and since Alison seemed to be 15 or so, that was plenty of reason for her parents to take the side of her little sister. But by now the Beaubaxtons girl had moved on to the subject of her school. This was getting weird. _Why_ would she be telling him so much about herself? And where did he recognise that expression from? "My favourite subject eez charms, I am ze best een my year in zat, and 'ope to 'ave a career een teaching eet in ze future. What do you want to do?" Alison didn't give Harry the opportunity to answer before she continued. "My Mama and Papa zink zat I am right in zat, at least, zough zat is all zey zupport me een." The girl sighed, and seemingly focused on the boy in front of her once again, before realising that she had been renting for quite some time, and her face turned the colour of the tomato on her plate. "But zat eez uneemportant..." The girl was suddenly nervous, and Harry was beginning to get a headache from the confusing behaviour she displayed. He separated himself from the situation in an attempt to figure the strange behaviour out.

It wasn't just Alison that was behaving strangely. Lots of girls seemed to be directing annoyed looks towards the French girl. But why? She was chatty, sure, but what was she doing to get so many people riled up? She wasn't being unnecessarily loud, nor was she being offensive. He supposed her being at the Slytherin table might be somewhat aggravating to the more bigoted members of his house, and maybe those of Beaubaxtons had a problem with her socialising with him; but that didn't explain the anger from Durmstrang, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Nor the amused looks that Flitwick, as well as several other Professors, was directing towards him. As Harry met his eyes, the diminutive Professor grinned in return. Harry turned his attention to the other looks that somehow struck him as significant. The Veela girl he had saved was glaring daggers into her fellow's back, but flashed a charming grin at Harry as she noticed him looking. The chaser trio over at the Gryffindor table had identical looks of... outrage? Well, that was weird. The twins were next to them, slowly edging away, with uneasy expressions, bordering on fearful. What did they know that Harry didn't? Even _Dumbledore_ had an amused smile as he observed Harry's confusion growing, knowing what was going through his head as he actually took time to see the looks that were constantly directed at him. Albus wasn't, however, happy at the look of outrage and jealousy the-boy-who-lived was giving to Harry. That... anger couldn't lead anywhere good. Despite being brought up pampered and happy, Thomas Potter didn't display the kindness that should have been ingrained into him from his parents. The Headmaster turned to give a meaningful look to the non-Potter Auror captain, having talked to Sirius at length on the subject, but found him looking on proudly at the Slytherin table.

_Flashback- two nights prior._

_Albus Percivel Wulfric Brian Dumbledore looked up from the stack of papers he had been sorting through as he felt the alerting rune let him know someone was approaching his office._

"_Come in, Sirius." He called to the head of house Black. The door swung open as the animagus stepped through, shaking his head in befuddlement._

"_Is there any reason to ask how you do that?" The supreme mugwump's eyes simply twinkled merrily in response. "Didn't think so." Albus' traditional happiness shifted to curiosity as Sirius hesitated at the end of his statement._

"_What is the matter, Sirius?" The Headmaster kindly asked. The grim-animagus let out a weary sigh before he responded._

"_It's James and Lily, sir."_

"_What about them?" Albus asked cautiously. The pair had some quite serious problems as of late. He glanced at the reason behind their problems, sat on the corner of his desk, and frowned at the rather nasty comments Reeta Skeeter had made about the Potter parents._

**Hogwarts plays host to a horde of Potters**

**As you, my loyal readers, know well by now, the famed family of the 'boy-who-lived' is far from the perfect persona we were shown for so long**

**while they were in the public eye. Lord and Lady Potter were shown to be far from perfect parents of a fabulous family a little under a decade ago**

**to this very day. After months of avoiding the public eye (very unlike their usual policy of embracing their child, Thomas Potter's, fame)**

**the rumours began of a tragedy in the family. I, like many of you I am sure, was horrified by the possibility of more misfortune occurring**

**to the heroic family so soon after they lost the famous retired Auror pair in Charlus and Emily Potter (the current Lord's parents), but soon**

**found my sympathy was unfounded. The Potters had committed a horrific crime in the eyes of this witch at least. The neglect of one child**

**while so greatly favouring another is a disgusting act, I am sure you all would agree, even if the-boy-who-lived was the favoured. And how, I hear**

**many of you asking, could the wizarding world's hero allow this to happen to his big brother? Surely his supposed selflessness would prevent such**

**neglect from being bestowed upon young Harry? Well, my friends, that expectation was proven unfounded in the child-hero's first year. **

**He carried out verbal attacks and abuse on his older brother throughout the other boy's third year, and had Harry not had such close friends to **

**defend him, he may have succeeded in turning the school against the Slytherin Potter. As it was, he ended up alienating his peers until the end of year,**

**when the well-respected Headmaster awarded him and his friends a massive amount of points for a spectacular adventure in rule-breaking. You may**

**remember my own comments accusing Dumbledore of going senile in encouraging such dangerous behaviour.**

**Now, in Harry Potter's 6****th**** year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the entire family that treated him so poorly is joining him. Unfortunately**

**I was unable to secure an interview with young Harry to find his opinion on the matter, but hope to get an audience with the Potter heir later in the year, while I am in **

**Hogwarts for the Triwizard tournament. I hope to find out more details in just how horrible Lily and James Potter were in the art of parenting, in order to give we,**

**the people of Wizarding Britain, an honest view of their family. And to destroy the lie that we have been fed regarding them and their famous son**

**being the ****_perfect_**** family I reccomend that you watch the the later issues of ****_The Prophet_****to find out more.**

_**Rita Skeeter**_

_**PG 3. The-boy-who-lived's story. The Death of Charlus and Emily Potter.**_

_**PG 5. The fame showered on the Potters as the-boy-who-lived was celebrated.**_

_**PG 7. The Greengrasse family and Harry.**_

_Granted, it was far less than she had said about them in earlier issues, but it reopened old wounds for the pair._

"_Lily has been trying to talk to Harry since the year started, but apparently he's been avoiding her as much as possible. The same as James, me and Remus last year." Sirius shook his head guiltily. "But Lily's less capable of bearing that. It's killing her to see that Harry hates her..." He locked pleading eyes on the Headmaster. "Is there any chance..."_

"_Of forgiveness?" Albus asked. "After a decade of hating them, Sirius, I doubt that he will be able to simply forgive and forget."_

"_There must be a way, sir! I... I hate seeing them like this." He looked to the Headmaster and saw a glimmer of something in his eyes. "What is it? What can I do?"_

"_I _think_ there is a way, Sirius." The chief Warlock nodded slowly. "But be warned Harry may not take to kindly to it if you go about asking them in the wrong way."_

"_Asking who in the wrong way?" Dumbledore looked back expectantly at Padfoot. "You mean... Yes, you're right about that for sure. Will you tell me how to ask them?"_

"_No... I think that should be up to you to find out."_

-(_)(())(_)-

"It's always really quiet in here." Harry commented, looking around the less-comfortable common room.

"That's because people are studying." Caroline replied, looking up from her book.

"How do you all study this much though? No one ever practises spells in here, and how much theory can you really study before it just becomes redundant?" The girl looked back with a slight frown. "Right, right. Saying that's like blasphemy in the Ravenclaw house. Jasmine isn't studying."

"No, she's asleep. That's not exactly exciting, is it?" The girl was slumped on the table the three were sat at; while Daphne and Tracy had a Muggle Studies double, with her multi-coloured hair splayed over the book she had been reading as she snored lightly. The noise was getting her a few dirty looks as her fellow 'claws tried to study.

"Nor is studying." Harry retorted. "C'mon it's a really nice day; can't we go outside and do _something_?"

"Harry," Caroline began in a whisper yell. "We're in our NEWT years now. We can't afford to waste time procrastinating!"

"We're in 6th year." Harry rolled his eyes. "What are you even studying? We've learned next to nothing of the curriculum."

"We can still read ahead!" The blonde defended. "Not everyone gets straight Os in their OWLs without studying."

"Please. You would have gotten the same as me even if you hadn't studied religiously. And do you really need to read ahead 2 years in advance? Wouldn't that make you overly confident in the future; meaning you won't take the lessons as seriously?" Harry smirked as Caroline opened her mouth and closed it again, looking annoyed at the logic. "Now, c'mon." He closed her book and stood up, stretching briefly before he noted more _looks_ being directed at him. He nudged Jasmine to wake her, and the three left the tower

-()-

"Caroline!" A girl's voice called out, as the three were approaching the lake. The trio turned to the source, and saw 4 female Beaubaxton students approaching them, the elder Delacour daughter foremost amongst them.

Again, Harry noted the familiar, yet strange, looks that the girls were shooting at him far in a far-from-subtle way. Was it... fondness? But why would they be fond of him? He had yet to talk to any of them. The closest he had come was when he helped Fleur's family in the summer, but that had just been talking with her father, Sebastian, who was less than friendly to Harry for some reason..

"Hi Fleur," Caroline responded, though with significantly less enthusiasm than the French girl, as Fleur and her group grew close to the trio. Likewise, Jasmine gave an unfriendly look to the crowd of girls. "What's up?"

"We were going to look around ze school, as we are 'aving lessons in ze castle and do not want to be lost on our first day."

"That's a good idea." Caroline commented. "Where are you looking first?"

"We were 'oping your 'andsome friend could show uz around." One of them commented, not looking away from Harry as she gave a dazzling smile. One that earned her a confused look from Harry.

"And you are..." Caroline growled in return.

"Aimee." She smirked at the English girl.

"Sorry, _Aimee_, but Harry is spending time with us at the moment." Jasmine weighed in, disliking the girl on principle.

"And what eez eet zat 'e's doing wiz you? Somezing prezzing?" A different girl weighed in, smiling deviously.

"He's... We're spending some time next to the lake." Jasmine said hesitantly.

"Well, can you not do zat some ozzer time? We 'ave need of 'im now."

"'And why can't you find another person to show you around? There are plenty around that would jump at the chance, I'm sure." The as of yet silent girl gained an evil, for there was no better word, expression, and shot a look at Fleur.

"Oh, but 'o could we trust to be in Fleur's prezence ozzer than 'er... 'ow do you say... le Fia-mph." The Veela's hand slapped around her friend's mouth, and she hastily announced, with her accent growing in intensity from the panic.

"Zorry to bozzer you, we will find zomeone elze!" She drug her friend off, while the other two followed, laughing and taunting in French; though what they were saying was lost to Harry as his two friends cast a _muffliato_ on him. Once they took it off, the others being too far gone to hear what was said, he voiced his curiosity.

"What was that about, Jaz? Car?" The two looked away, _slightly _guilty about the secrecy, and began walking towards the lake at a brisk pace. "Hey! Hey wait up!"

-(_)(_)(_)-

The next weeks were largely more of the same, and soon enough found Harry watching, amused, along with the rest of the schools, as the first entry to the talent show came onto the stage.

'Merlin. Who knew that the _Wizarding _world had Rappers.' He thought to himself, cringing at the terrible attempt. 'If you can call _this_ Rapping anyway. And why does _Dumbledore_ have to be a judge?!' The others had long since called for the _performers_ to stop, but Dumbledore was bobbing along to the terrible music while everyone else begged for it to end. Eventually it did, and it was made clear by the fact that they earned a score of 8/50 that the group would not be proceeding.

Next up was an act that was significantly more shocking, and to most enjoyable, than the one before. This time around, Karkaroff and Bagman were responsible for the act lasting longer than the 3 would have allowed otherwise.

Harry could practically hear Mcgonogall assigning detentions to her own house' 7th years as they began... removing their clothes in a sensual fashion. The elder Potter noted, with a smirk, that his _brother_ and the youngest Weasley male had nose bleeds watching the attractive girls of their house disrobe. Harry had to admit that he, too, enjoyed the spectacle; and he could have sworn that the 'performers' had looked at him far more than made sense by the end of their show, having reduced a good number of their male viewers, none of whom had seen a strip show before, little more than piles of goo.

Showing the perverted nature of two of the judges, the girls got a score of 25; with Dumbledore not willing to give less than a 3, even if he was uncomfortable with the performance.

Next up was a decent enough demonstration of acrobatics and tight-rope walking. A couple of muggleborns that had clearly seen a show of it over the summer before. They got slightly more than the strippers at 33; nobody being angered by the _audacity_ of a circus show like they were in the previous performance.

A couple of singers that were far from spectacular, but nothing headache-induing followed as performers before the first interesting, at least interesting and clothed, performers came onto stage.

A pair of 5th year girls from Durmstrang; identical twins it seemed, came out dressed in matching outfits and drew their wands. The pair bowed in perfect synchronisation, and with exaggerated gestures began a show-duel. Harry, and he guessed a very few others, noted that they even moved the same and, more surprisingly, their wands were almost identical. As far as he knew, that wasn't a common trait even in twins.

Harry couldn't help chuckling as he noticed the expressions on Hogwarts' resident twins as they stared, open mouthed, at the display in front. With a quick motion, Harry pulled a camera from midair, and snapped a shot of the Weasleys, sure that it would be _useful_ in the future.

The judges announced a brief interval as the next set of performers prepared.

-(_0_)-

Harry was torn. He _really_ wanted to laugh. But it seemed slightly unfair to his head of house; given that the pale man was rapidly reddening, from anger, at the display the orange haired twins were giving, taking advantage of the stage to demonstrate their class-clownishness.

The two had demonstrated their admittedly impressive skills in transfiguration or something of the sort, and were now dancing a jig on stage. That was far from the eye-catching feature of their performance, however, as the two were currently dressed in billowing cloaks, skin even paler than their family's customary shade, and hair long, dark and greasy. Even the hooked nose had been captured rather well; all in all a pair of convincing Snapes were embarrassing themselves in front of the three schools, as their genuine counterpart all but frothed at the mouth from his rage. However, whether that was due to the two morons on stage or the two guffawing off to the side, dressed in their auror robes, Harry did not know. But if he were to bet, he'd say that aurors Black and Potter were the responsible party.

Soon enough, the two's display ended, and they were replaced by more mundane acts, some being fancy displays of magic, some singers, and some muggle skills, but none of any particular note to Harry. Especially since none of his friends had decided to enter the mini tournament. This _was_ just the first bracket, the 6th year shrugged mentally, it would hopefully have some more good acts.

-()-(_)-()-

"Tracy! Tracy Davis, wait!" A man's voice called out, jogging after the girl as she began to descend the steps into the dungeon, having gone to the bathroom and telling her friends not to wait. It was the middle of the day, so Harry and Daphne had felt Tracy was safe enough in the short walk from the toilet to their common room. The brunette turned to face her caller, and frowned visibly as she saw one of her many relatives, through her pureblood heritage, though she had long since forgotten _how_ exactly they were related, come jogging up to her. She wasn't particularly happy with Sirius Black.

"What do you want?" She asked, skipping any small talk.

"Oh... Ah, you see..." The head of house Black hesitated, before steeling himself. "I need to ask you for a favour."

"A favour?" Tracy didn't like the sounds of that. "What do you want?"

"Well, it's not _exactly_ a favour for _me_."

"Then who is it for?" She narrowed her eyes at the long haired man.

"J-Just one of my friends." He stammered slightly.

"One of your friends? So a _marauder_?" Tracy growled at the animagus; the little group was not in her, nor any of the girl's, good books.

"Well... yes."

"Then I'm going to have to say _no_."

"You haven't even heard the request!" He exclaimed. Sirius had been keeping track on her using the map, it was less than convenient for him to chase her down once he found her dot.

"I don't have to! We've all made it _clear_ that we dislike you!" Tracy yelled right back, quickly losing her temper with the auror.

"I get that! I do! But if you could just _talk_ to Harry about maybe reconciling with his paren-"

"Parents?! _They_ are not his parents! Parents love and care for their children! Parents would give their lives for them! They wouldn't leave their kids so starved for love that they don't understand what a hug is at 10 YEARS OLD!" Tracy's eyes were watering at the memories her own small rant had brought up. Memories of the time her parents had _perished_.

Sirius had the decency to look guilty himself, even if he was far from responsible, and he slowly nodded.

His best bet would be Harry, after all. After all, he had cared enough to save his godfather's life at the very least. Looking at the angry, sad, and outraged expression on his younger relative's face, he wasn't sure if she would do the same.

-(_)(_)(_)(_)-

That night, far away, screams pierced the air as the Death Eaters forces expanded their horizons, allying themselves with an up and coming Dark Lord with a very similar agenda to their temporarily fallen master, embracing the bigots with open arms. They were currently gathering around an unguarded, yet high profile, target.

This would announce to everyone in Wizarding Europe that their war on Mudbloods had not ceased. They had just taken a short break to lull them all into a false sense of security. Now, they had moved from England and would cleanse the population of the entire world; before their master returned and ruled with an iron fist.

Plus, this way they didn't have to deal with the Headmaster of the British equivalent of their target. None would stand a chance against Albus Dumbledore.

They finished the little planning the group was inclined to do, and began their approach. The 50 dark wizards were all dressed in the uniform of Voldemort's Death Eaters, and the sight of such a crowd would strike fear into the hearts of the students of Beaubaxtons.

As one, the small army raised their wands, and began the assault on the extensive wards, another section of the crowd setting up their own; preventing escape through any of the usual means, namely Apparation, Floo or Portkey.

As they began, alerting wards rang through the castle, effectively waking the entire castle in an instant. Throughout the dormitories, the male and female students shot up, many panicked and screaming as they forgot the limited number of drills they had been given in the face of a very real danger. For this year, the vast majority of students that had remained in the smaller-than-Hogwarts castle were underage, and ill equipped for fighting Dark Wizards.

The teachers prepared to do what they could, but given that the security offered to the school had been taken along with the Triwizard procession there was little chance of fighting them off. All that they could hope was that they could save the children, or some of them, anyway.

500 miles away, a pair of Avada Kedavra green eyes snapped open, a sapphire blue symbol shining on Harry Potter's cheek adjacent to glowing orbs, the 6th year shot to his feet, and vanished from his bedroom, leaving silence behind in his wake.

**Again, hope you enjoyed the chapter. Sorry 'bout the cliffhanger... well, not really, or I wouldn't have ended it with one.**

**Hope you enjoyed, please Follow/Favourite/Review**


	7. Beaubaxtons Academy

**Here's another chapter; quite an eventful one, in fact.**

**I own nothing you recognise.**

**By the way, I'll now respond to reviews that seem to need a response; it's difficult and time consuming to respond to all of them. Sorry if this annoys anyone. (I said sorry here, too. You'll get this at the end-note)**

**I'm going to add an apology to anyone with a French accent in here; just in case I manage to insult anyone unintentionally.**

**(I have just realised I've misspelt Beauxbatons incorrectly a lot, so I'll correct that at some point.)**

**Please Review/Follow/Favourite.**

"Haha! Look at the kiddy dance! Look at the Kiddy DANCE!" A masked man, with a nasally voice cackled as he jabbed his wand at the squirming 2nd year, a silencing charm, applied earlier, preventing the boy from screaming from the duress he was under. The torture was taking place near the remnants of the boy's school; the attackers had, to add insult to injury, destroyed the castle with a barrage of _Bombarda_s and _Reducto_s.

No older than 13; yet the barely teen aged boy was under the Cruciatus. Even some of the man's fellows, specifically those that believed in the protection of Purebloods but had joined up without the sadism that was present in this particular man, were uncomfortable with the sick pleasure he was displaying in the act. They half expected him to have wood.

"Dance you little Shit! Dance you MUDBLOOD!" He screeched at the agonized student, as the boy shook and defecated from the pain; increasing his torturer's pleasure further at the sight of what he had caused.

The only professor remaining in the fight; a middle-aged man renowned in France for being a certified champion of duelling, intervened at this point, unable to stand the sight of such cruelty to one of his students; especially one so young. A blue arc f light flew from his wand, and struck the torturing man in the bicep.

Another screech ran through the night as the dark wizard felt his entire right arm, the one holding his wand, in fact, was encased in ice; the coldness _burning_ his skin as the spell engulfed his arm. The sight briefly inspired hope from those that were being attacked, only for them to realise what this spell had indirectly caused.

The Duelist had sacrificed his position engaged in two others, a third already felled by his hand, in order to help his student. They watched horror stricken as their only hope was caught in the back by a killing curse, and his eyes went blank as he slumped to the ground.

The celebrating increased further from those Dark-Lord followers that had finished their fights before now, as they gathered up the ones they had picked off, holding them under various curses and hexes to prevent the students and teachers from fleeing before they were _done_.

Beaubaxtons had only been accepting male students for a single generation; explaining the fact that so many more were female. That, unfortunately, was a good thing in the eyes of Death Eaters. It meant that they had now gained very nice spoils, and they had no problem claiming what was theirs here in the fields of France.

Spurred on by the final teacher falling, the rest of the Death Eaters stepped up their game, breaking through and overpowering the 6th and 7th year students quickly enough; though in several cases the dark wizards had to gang up on the younger wizards, seeing as the servants of Dark Lords tended to be of a rather low calibre. Cannon fodder effectively.

Just as the creeps were about to claim their prizes for a job well done, however, the ground shook.

"Hey, do you guys hear that?!" One of the newer recruits called out, panic in his high voice.

"Never mind hear, do you guys _feel_ that?!" Another responded; trying to maintain his balance. "What the hell is-" The man fell silent, his hand snapping up to his chest as his knees buckled.

"Tony?!" The first called, shock rising and fear intruding at the thought of something going wrong. "Tony! What's wrong?!"

The rumbling grew louder, as the source approached the dark wizards rapidly. By this point it was not just the new recruits that were feeling fear constrict and their nerves fail; the vast majority of the bunch were cowards; and there was no chance that they would be hit by an earthquake in a magical area; it just didn't happen. That meant there was another reason, and even they arrived at the conclusion that it was bad news.

They had an inkling as to who was here. They were wrong, of course, but the conclusion they came to terrified the majority of the dark wizards.

Who would care to intervene? Who would be ale to get through the anti-apparation wards? And who of them would _dare_?

Their master.

Tom Marvelo Riddle. Better known as Lord Voldemort, the greatest Dark Lord of their time.

He had not given them permission to attack the school. Was he alive? Had he somehow heard of tonight's activity? If so, they were _dead_.

Another fell to the ground, silent other than a whisper of shock as he reached for his chest. With a thud, he fell to the ground.

The next died more painfully. A quiet _thunk_ and a hole appeared, in the centre of his forehead.

"What in Morgana's name?" One dark wizard whispered, seeing the gleaming stone that had exited the wound. He bent to pick it up, noting that it was a steel pebble, before the rock changed.

It grew massively; becoming a boulder as opposed to the minuscule rock, and crushed the man's arm under it's new-found weight.

"Ahhh!" He cried, futilely attempting to roll the rock off him as the bone and sinew was flattened in a horrible flash of pain. "H-Help me!" He demanded of a fellow that happened to be near.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_." Was the other's response, as he gestured extravagantly with his wand, and the metal slowly rose from it's position pinning and crippling his companion.

Letting out a whimper, the floored Death Eater moved his undamaged hand to his mangled one, and sobbed once; not paying attention to the floating hazard. A mistake.

The levitating dark wizard heard a _squawk _and looked up, moving his attention slightly from what he was doing. He saw a raven diving straight at him, and furrowed his eyebrows behind the mask; befuddled at what this meant. Ravens were commonly known to be a bad omen.

Then, he saw that it was not an ordinary bird. On the visible breast of the avian, a strange symbol shone. The 'Eater didn't recognise it from his days of Ancient Runes; but he wasn't the most intelligent man in the world; so that didn't surprise him.

The man raised his free hand as the bird approached, it seemed intent to attack him for some unknown reason, and so he would bat the pest away.

As his hand struck out, the bird let out another _squawk_, followed by a muffled _BOOM_ and the man's upper body vanished in a flash of orange flames. The legs remained upright for several seconds, before teetering over.

The boulder dropped, and with a _crunch_ the whining Death Eater was flattened.

The others were thrown into panic as angry _chirps _ran through the field around them; they had seen what was done to their fellow when he was attacked by that bloody bird. In their fright, half simply turned and ran, the others realizing they had a better chance of survival by standing strong and fighting back.

As a flock of the runed ravens appeared, the symbols glowing in the dark sky, the group began throwing spells at the animals, the birds exploding before they could get close enough to do damage to their targets. The group had their heads tilted back, staring into the sky to catch sight of any incoming bomber birds. This left them completely open from the flank, and the fact that they had gathered into a group fr defensive purposes made it even easier to capitalise on the fools' incompetence.

The rumbling and shaking returned. But the students, and the remaining teachers, were the only ones to notice that this time felt different. Like the feel that would accompany a herd of cattle charging. Or, of course, several dozen bulls.

The rampaging animals, save the final in the charge, had no runes this time; able to do the damage with the natural gifts they had been given, unlike the birds. The brown hide mammals were charging in a semi-organised formation, coming from the other side of the castle as they were magically herded. Had the 'Eaters looked back, they would have had time to move out of the way with ease; explaining the distraction in the form of another flock of birds, though had they looked closely the dark wizards would have noticed that the glow was in a very different shape to the exploding avians they had been dealing with up until now. But, of course, they didn't have any reason to think that the new rune was only there so that they _wouldn't_ turn back and notice the incoming stampede.

As the rampaging animals approached, a fist sized rock landed between the attackers and their would-be victims, the rune glowing a brilliant blue as it rolled to a stop.

The rock exploded into a brilliant light; the equivalent of a super-charged flash bang, and blinded the already traumatised students and their teachers, preventing them from seeing what came next.

With no difficulty, the horde of animals caught the attackers off guard, and slammed into the back of the 25-odd wizards; the bulls' horns dealing with the first to be hit, while the thorough trampling shattered the chests and/or skulls of their fellows that they had covered.

Following the Death Eaters being put down, the final in the herd of bulls stopped in the middle of the group of corpses and his rune brightened. In an instant, the bovine animal was engulfed in brilliant red flames, that jumped from him seconds later, hopping to the nearest bodies while ignoring the area other than the flesh-made beings. The bodies were quickly reduced to ash, as the fire swarmed over them and, as the peoples' vision recovered, there was no evidence of the dark wizards after this. Well, none other than the memories that the teachers would give to their ministry once the incident was investigated.

The group, their sight now restored, shrank back slightly at the sight that next presented itself. An animal... a _beast_ charged through the clearing; the coat barely standing out as darker than the rest of the night around it, while the ivory teeth gleamed in the moonlight. The big cat moved peculiarly silently, for it's size, as it flew through the field in pursuit of the other 'Eaters.

Terror was evident in the screams as it caught up with the fleeing wizards, giving them enough time to exclaim from shock, but ending them before they had a chance to so much as draw their wands. The massive canines punctured arteries and vital organs in a display of why it was an apex predator.

However, a single man; the leader of this raid and the infamous wizard known so far as incendie-voluntaire, for his affinity for Arson in France, escaped the beast's wrath, in a manner similar to the attack.

An average size antelope burst from the treeline on the end of that clearing, and rushed towards the cowering group, heading in particular for a small crowd of 4th year girls. Of course, this didn't strike any of them as particularly sinister. What would the herbivore do to them, after all. But the breath-taking roar that followed _did_. That resulted in more than one of the younger students having an... accident as it nearly deafened them.

The form of the massive cat that broke free of the wilderness, in pursuit of what seemed to be it's prey, added greatly to the fear and awe that came from the intimidating roar. The black cat was heading for the crowd this time, giving them a better view of it as many of them scrambled backwards, in an effort to get away from the hate-filled emerald eyes.

The eyes, though, were not fixed upon them, but on the antelope that had now reached the girls, who were under the impression that his gaze was fixed on them, and so were, in fear, whimpering into each other as they hugged their friends tightly.

Their nerves weren't helped by the next occurrence.

The chased herbivore had changed tact as it shifted back into the 'Dark Lord' that was looking to ally himself with Voldemort, who seized one of the schoolgirls by the throat, and with his other hand pressed his wand against her throat.

"Change back!" He screamed in French at the predator in front, who responded with a snarl. "Change back or I swear to God I'll _fucking kill her_!" The tip pressed into the vulnerable flesh harder, and the girl let out a soft sob as tears ran down her face. "Shut up you little bitch!" He growled at her.

The massive Smilodon stopped, sitting on his hindquarters with as hateful a look as his face was capable of directed at the disgusting wizard. The creature reared back, and stood on his back legs. In an instant, the feline had shifted into his own natural form; a tall, muscular teen standing in the stead of the monstrous cat. The still glowing emerald orbs narrowed as Harry Potter flicked his wrist and a wand, with the black, red and white spirals running up the length, appeared in his hand from the hidden holster on his wrist.

"Ah, ah! None of that!" The wizard called; the tip of his wand glowing a harsh orange as he did. "Toss your wand off to the side kid!"

With a grunt of displeasure, Harry threw his wand off to the side as the hostage whimpered as her fear increased.

"Now who the fuck do you think you are kid?!" The 40-odd Dark Lord asked angrily. He received silence as his answer. "TELL ME! Who do you think you are to mess with _me_?! WHO?!" He tossed the girl to the side, casually, and centred his wand on the insulting wizard that dared threaten him. Harry raised his hand at the same time, and a strange symbol glowed on the palm.

"That was dumb, friend." Harry spoke in French. "You were only alive because of her. _Diffindo!_" A bolt of light slammed into Incendie-Voluntaire's chest. The man's chest was sliced open, and he stumbled back with a shocked expression. "_Reducto!_" In his shocked state at the wandless magic; the man didn't manage to throw up a shield, and paid the price as the now visible chest-plate was obliterated by the spell. He fell onto his ass, and the light went out in the 'Dark Lord's eyes.

Harry flicked his wrist again, and his discarded wand returned to his hand. He quickly sheathed it again before casting a scourgify on his blood cover mouth and turning to the crying girl that had been held captive, a series of diagnosive spells quickly being cast on her to check her for injuries.

As he turned to the others, intending to do the same, he found himself on the receiving end of an odd experience.

He'd yet to be thanked for stuff like _this_, after all.

(_)_(_)_(_)_(_)_(_)_(_)_(_)_(_)_(_)

"Sorry I'm late Professor." Harry said, as he walked into the dungeon classroom. "I was told to give you this." He handed a note to the Snape before taking his seat.

"R-Right." The Potions teacher responded, blinking owlishly at the note. "The instructions are on the board. You may begin." He flicked his wand at the blackboard and disappeared into his attached office with a swirl of his cloak.

"What was _that_ about?" Tracy asked, from her seat next to Harry, while Jasmine doodled on his other side.

"I assume he went to call the Headmaster." Harry responded with a yawn. "Then, the Headmaster will call the Beauxbatons headmistress. Who will confirm my story." He added, and waited for 20 seconds. "And then Snape will be told to send me up to Dumbledore's office." They only had to wait for a few minutes before the door to the other room opened once more and a more-pale-than-usual Snape strode back in.

"Class is over! You're dismissed!" He barked at the surprised NEWT students. "Potter, you're to come with me to see the Headmaster!" Without waiting for Harry to respond, the man slunk out of the classroom at a remarkable speed.

-(_)()(_)-

5 minutes later the Slytherin Head of Year and his 6th year prefect arrived at the gargoyle guarding the Head-Teacher's office, and with a quick password of "Blood-Pops" they were allowed entrance.

As the two ascended the staircase, Harry's trepidation of this _meeting_ grew. He knew he couldn't be charged with anything, given that the French were _thrilled_ with Harry's intervention; the gratitude certainly not being hurt by the fact that their minister's daughter had been the one that the Arson-Dark-Lord had taken hostage. They had pardoned him immediately for the justified homicide, and had decided to give him what he gathered was their version of the order of Merlin at the earliest opportunity.

That, however, didn't prevent him from getting a bloody _lecture_ from the Headmaster. That would be real annoying. If only the bastard dark wizard hadn't made him change back, he would have been perfectly capable of hiding his involvement in the entire affair.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Harry heard Dumbledore calmly call out from his office, having been alerted by the wards around his door.

"Come in, Severus." The door swung open, and the two stepped through. Harry certainly wasn't prepared for what happened next.

"Urgh!" Was the noise made by Harry Potter as he was pulled into a hug, with his feet dangling almost 6 feet from the ground. The Headmistress of Beauxbatons was very large and, with that, very strong.

Madame Maxine babbled incoherent thanks in her native tongue as she nearly crushed her children's saviour's ribs. The headmistress, like Dumbledore, cared deeply for her charges. She would give her life to protect the children in an instant; of that there could be no doubt. That this student had managed to protect them... she could not repay such a debt. Not that Harry would expect a debt to be repaid.

"Ribs... hurt..." Harry gasped out. The half-giant let out a _squeal_ of surprise that she was hurting him, and dropped the elder Potter to the ground.

"I am zo zorry!" She exclaimed, panicking. Harry rubbed his ribs as he responded.

"It's fine, no damage done." He said with a charming smile, assuring the French woman of his health and well-being. Composing herself, Maxine began again.

"Meester Potter, I cannot exprezz the gratitude that I az well az y staff 'ave for your selflezz actionz lazt night." She said, nobly. "Pleaze know zat we are eternally grateful for zis, and zat I 'ave told my studentz zat zey should give you zeir zanks." To this, Harry let out a groan. "What? What iz eet?" She asked, worriedly.

"It's nothing... just, they seem to talk to me a lot already, for reasons I don't understand, and I'm guessing this will simply increase their interest."

"You do not underztand?" She asked, sceptical. She had seen the way that girls looked at him, not that she could blame them, and was extremely doubtful that he could not realise the motive when they were so... _obvious_ about it. She looked to Dumbledore with a raised eyebrow, and found his eyes twinkling merrily at Harry's annoyed frown. "'Ow can zat be? Are teenage males not normally very familiar wiz zis subject?" They tended to be in France, at least.

"They are in general, yes. Young Harry, here, seems to be quite a unique case in this subject." Dumbledore clearly knew more, but the half-giant got the impression that he would tell her later of Harry's _uniqueness_.

"Harry, my boy..." Dumbledore began, intending to give the expected lecture to the 16 year old.

"Save it, Headmaster." Harry said bluntly. "I'm not glad that I killed them, but I'd do it again in the circumstances. You _will_ fail if you try to make me feel guilty about putting down rapists and murderers." The Headmaster frowned at the statement, but he had heard this argument many times before. Moody, for example, saw no reason to spare dark wizards. Harry's 'family' was not one of the crop that agreed with his policy regarding taking lives; and based on Harry's childhood, Dumbledore knew this would be a battle he was doomed to lose. Besides, the other 3 in the room would side with Harry in this regard. Though Karkaroff may be uneasy with the prospect, the old man supposed.

"Very well, Harry." He sighed, wearily. "I don't suppose that you will need the counselling we offer for such events?"

"No, sir."

"Well then," The Headmaster began. "I would suggest you head to your next class, Harry. Then you probably aught to get what sleep you can before tonight, it is the day to enter the tournament, after all." The boy nodded, and left the office promptly. "Now, Olympe, I believe that you have some questions?" He smiled at the large woman.

"Oui, Dumbleedoor. Why do you say zat 'Arry is 'unique'" The half-giant queried. Albus sighed once more at the question, debating whether to tell the tale to the woman, and even more so whether he should allow Karkaroff to hear..

"Very well," The powerful wizard waved his wand, and conjured a trio of comfortable seats in front of his desk. "Please sit, this will be a long, and unpleasant, story, so please refrain from too many interruptions." He took a breath as he thought where to start.

"It all begun around 12 and a half years ago. I do not know if you know this, but young Harry's last name is Potter." Maxine and Karkaroff opened their mouths to ask the obvious question. "Yes, as in the brother of the-boy-who-lived, who you know is a student here also."

All three listeners muttered unsavoury comments about the famed 4th year at this point, having had less than pleasant interactions with him over the month and a half they had been at Hogwarts. And, in Snape's case occurrences that inspired outright hatred for the arrogant and ignorant boy.

"On that night, I'm given to believe that Voldemort was targeting Thomas, and had no reason to attack Harry; meaning that the boy was in his own room at the time. Of course, since those that would be able to remember it; Harry's grandparents and Voldemort, are no longer with us, there is no real way to know this for sure. Harry _was_ found unharmed in his bedroom, however, so it can be assumed that this is the case. Up until this point, the elder Potter had had a good childhood with a loving and caring family. It is a shame that the Potters let the fame of their youngest to get to their heads, and that they so wholly embraced the spotlight." He turned his gaze on the large woman in particular, who was listening with rapt attention. "They _neglected _him. They did not abuse him, I want to make that clear. But they gave his younger brother everything he asked for, while they left Harry to fend for himself. To the mind of a child, I suppose that going from fending for yourself in a home of people that ignored your existence would be _more_ hurtful than living on the streets and doing the same." Maxine had narrowed her eyes at this implication regarding her new favourite Englishman. "Harry did evidently believe this and decided to take action; I believe that it was after a particularly unpleasant Christmas where nobody so much as spoke to him through the day.

"I'm given to understand that his parents and brother did not even notice that he was not present at dinner, and so Harry ran away. He has not told me much of what happened next, but from the few meetings I had with him in first year, I have gathered the impression that he largely lived away from mankind." Now, her eyes widened, while Karkaroff had a similar, though more subdued expression and Snape was growling something under his breath; reminded of his own childhood. "While this would be a horrid fate for any other child; one they likely would not survive, Harry thrived. He arrived in better physical condition than I have ever seen in a wizard, and bear in mind that this was at the age of 11; he has only improved since, and with an abnormally large, albeit wild, core. Since then, Harry has stayed with the Greengrass family; a neutral family in the eyes of England, and has developed a close... friendship with their eldest daughter and the other wards they care for. You see, Lady Greengrass has had a habit of rescuing unfortunate children, and they voluntarily take care of Harry and 3 girls his age. They, I can assure you, have never neglected Harry, and, in fact care greatly for him." The half-giant woman had stopped frowning now, at least, and that relieved Albus.

"I highly doubt that you know this of Harry, but, along with being our top student, he has been more involved than most realise in the _events_ that have taken place since the-boy-who-lived arrived. While it is probably best for me not to go into detail, I can assure you that he is a wonderful boy, and that you have no need to fear for your students' safety concerning the Potter heir."

"I zink you mizunderstand Dumbly-door. I, for one waz not afraid of 'Arry. 'E 'as already rescued ze majority of my studentz, and I am 'appy zat 'e is 'ere in caze of anozzer incident."

"Very well, is there anything else you wished to discuss?" Dumbledore asked with a smile.

"Yes, Albus." Karkaroff responded gruffly. "Are you _sure_ of your defences regarding the cup?" The man was wary of what could happen should somebody tamper with the artefact. Anyone who's name came out was _bound_ to compete, after all.

"I am quite certain, Igor. As you know the students must have gotten permission and had their slip signed by one of the attendees; which are narrowed to myself, you, Olympe, Crouch, your respective deputies, Minerva and Alistor." Dumbledore responded reassuringly. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

-(_)(_)-

Later that night, after dealing with an uncomfortable feast, in which many people focused on him; he once more cursed the 'Dark Lord' for making him reveal himself, Harry approached the cup later than most stayed awake. They had the next day off from lessons, after all, in order to 'prepare' for the selection. He didn't understand what that meant, exactly, but gathered it had something to do with people being able to act gracious in the event they were not picked. Or to give anyone that got cold feet tonight the chance to regain their nerve.

Quickly writing his name on a scrap of paper, Harry Potter placed the entry into the goblet with confidence. He didn't particularly care one way or the other; but if the girls thought he would be champion, he was very much inclined to trust them. Just as he did on every other matter.

"Hmm..." He spoke aloud, glancing at the odd purple streak surrounding the magical artefact. "Well, I don't suppose it could hurt." The animagus knelt down next to the magical divide, and placed his index finger against the stone floor, a rune glowing on the tip as he did so.

Moving around the cup, Harry drew complex and, seemingly, invisible patterns on the floor with a remarkable speed, before he walked round it once more; checking he had not missed anything, and walked back out of the entrance hall; drawing his map as he went. It wouldn't do to get caught by the blasted caretaker out at this time of night.

-()-()-()-

Later that night, Harry was reclined in his bed, with a textbook sized book sitting in his hands. He gazed at the pages with a furrowed brow as he found the answer to one of the problems he had been pondering ever since he arrived at the wizarding institution.

This book was, for some reason, sitting in the restricted section of the library. Harry was unsure of _why_ they would keep it here, and even more why it would be deemed dangerous. Was it simply because Britain was so racist that they assumed whatever another species wrote had to be forbidden?

The title was unreadable to virtually _any_ human. Possibly any none of his species except for Harry himself could read this lettering.

In the Goblin tongue; unaffectionately deemed gobbledegook by wizards, the title read:

_The Courting and Mating Rituals of Humans_

_By SharpTongue: Scholar_

As he reached the end of this book, reading it very quickly, as is his way, Harry made a noise of understanding.

"So _that's_ what all the weird glances means." He stood and walked over to the full length mirror he had in his room, looking detachedly at himself for the first time. "So... does that mean I am _attractive_ by the standards of females?" He narrowed his eyes. "Well... I have a symmetry that is rather aesthetically pleasing, I suppose. Low body fat, without being unhealthy looking by being overly skinny; that's just good sense, we have the ability to retain fat for a reason. High muscle density and definition, while not being bulky and reducing speed. Tall, broad. That's... good? My hair... I don't know. What do girls find appealing regarding hair? What would _I_ find appealing regarding hair?" He questioned himself, before closing his eyes and looking for that snippet of information. What would _he_ find attractive.

"Hair... I'm unsure. I've never much paid attention to that. In terms of a female's body, as I only have an interest in the female gender, I would say... what? Healthy? Physically able? Compatible with my own? What is it that males would typically find appealing?" He sat on the edge of a chair, and gripped his skull with an annoyed groan. "I suppose I aught to figure _this_ out in terms of actual girls. Trying to understand it without the potential objects of affection present seems illogical." He muttered to himself, sighing wearily and rose, heading for his bed once more. "I need to return this to Tearjaw tomorrow, too. Along with my thanks that he actually let a human borrow one of his peoples' books. Even if it is not one they particularly value." He pushed the more confusing thoughts from his mind for the moment and was asleep when his head hit the pillow.

-()-

In the meantime; Albus Dumbledore, along with more than a few other teachers, the Aurors assigned, and some curious Hufflepuffs that happened to hear the commotion, was rushing to the Entrance Hall.

An unbelievably loud _BANG_ had rung through the castle, and while the majority of sleeping quarters were warded from noise well enough to shield the startling sound, it had been in close enough proximity to the 'Puffs to break thorough, and the teachers themselves had been alerted by various paintings.

This was _not_ one of the protections that Albus had put onto the Goblet. So what had caused such a racket?

He got his answer soon enough; when he reached the Hall; somehow managing this before any other, the aged Headmaster was greeted by a shocking sight. On the ground, there were a large number of runes glowing a startling blue, and a man lying flat on his back next to them. Next to the knocked out man, a magical eyeball and a fake leg rested, but the profile was _not_ that of Mad-Eye moody.

No, this was someone who, by all rights, should be dead.

"Barty Crouch Junior..." The white haired wizard mumbled, shock obvious, before he realised what he must have been doing down here; the powerful mind quickly reaching the logical conclusion. "The paper! Has he managed to enter the name?!"

**Does that count as another cliffhanger? If yes, then I'm sorry. Well... kind of sorry. Maybe I'm not sorry. So sorry for not being sorry. And sorry if I've said sorry too many times in this apology. Sorry. (See beginning note for another sorry)**

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**Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	8. The Selection

**Well, here's another one.**

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_In the future, Harry Potter would wonder just how this bloody canyon was missed by the entire population of Wizarding Britain; now, though, that was the last thing on his mind._

_The figure was running. Running as though the devil himself was in pursuit._

_And, in a way, you could argue that was exactly right._

_The rapid clop-clop of hooves was clattering off behind the tiny male. Difficult to tell just how far, given the echoes that rang through the rocky chasm through which the raven haired human scampered._

_His heavy breathing made the fear coursing through Harry-used-to-be-Potter's veins as he ran from whatever _it_ was. He'd had far too many of these encounters in recent years to risk _hiding_ or slowing down. It would, no doubt, find him if he did._

_The child-wizard was dead on his feet._

Hell_, some people would just say he was dead._

_The runaway was long past exhausted; but it's remarkable what such adrenaline could do even for the body of a 6 year old. And that was all Harry was. A six year old wizard._

_He kept on running. _

_Running and tripping; then scrambling back to his feet and running once more._

_The youngling was slowing, though. His legs mangled by this point from the scrapes and bruises; accumulating to leave him close to crippled. On the other hand the creature was, if anything, growing faster._

Fear_ was gripping his heart. The future-prodigy's will was fading; how was an untrained wizard, without so much as a wand, survive a situation like this? Surely he wouldn't._

_That realisation came full force when Harry saw what was up ahead. The face of a cliff. _

_Not something to usually be feared, but the idea of outclimbing that thing was even more ridiculous than outrunning it. _

_The Devil had the hooves of a mountain goat, after all._

_-_-()-()-()-

'Well, that's less than ideal.' Harry commented to himself.

The Headmaster had just made the announcement that Alastor Moody had, through the year so far, been impersonated by a Death Eater by the name of Barty Crouch Junior. The students had been assured that they were safe, and that Mad-Eye himself was fine and would be taking charge of the Defence lessons as of Monday, as the day of the selection itself was a Friday.

It was odd that they had made this speech at lunchtime. Normally it would be made during dinner; especially since that day was Halloween and the feast was, even more than usual in an attempt to impress the visiting schools, going to be an extravagant affair. Of course, people were uneasy at the revelation that they'd been taught by a dark wizard throughout the school-year so far, but considering the crazy stuff that had happened constantly over the past 3 years, it was not altogether surprising. Dumbledore really seemed to be lapse on security; they'd have failed to find the real Moody had Auror Black not had a copy of 'the marauders map' on his person when they found the knocked-out figure of Crouch.

Even more shockingly, the ministry was actually acting. No doubt they had only sent the additional Aurors for the sake of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Though _why_ they thought sending _Dementors_ again was a good idea was beyond Harry and his friends.

Even as the other people were contemplating the dangers of having had a follower of the Dark Lord in Hogwarts; the main concern being the idea of such easy hunting for the child-killer, what if he had reverted back to his old ways of torturing anyone he could? If he had set traps in his classroom? If he had simply snapped and started using Avada Kedarvas at _first years_? What if he had poisoned the food? Ron Weasley and Thomas Potter had begun eating, paying no heed to that last possibility. Well, eating would be the polite term. The only way they could actually be any messier would be for them to open their mouths and begin slamming their faces on the various plates of food in hopes that they would ingest something or other. They were sort of smearing the food over their faces, and the Potter parents were casting their younger son disapproving frowns. James; because Thomas was the son of an Ancient and Noble house. Lily; because she was Thomas' mother, and did not like the, rather accurate, impression of a pig with opposable thumbs he was currently participating in. The red head couldn't help but compare hi and his brother at the moment. Harry, unlike his younger sibling, was eating in a fitting manner for a Potter. Admittedly, his plate was not balanced enough to satisfy Lily; there was a hell of a lot of meat on it, annoying his vegetarian _mother_ immensely, but at least he wasn't wasting the food spectacularly like her other son and his ever-hungry friend.

Currently sat at the Slythering table, with Caroline, Jasmine, Tracy and Daphne, Harry was unaware of his parents train of thought. No, Harry was focused on his own problems.

"Effing book." He cursed under his breath; blaming the Goblin writer for his current predicament. If he hadn't read the source of information, then his discomfort would be _far _lessened.

Finally, Harry was beginning to understand just why the males of Hogwarts, and more recently the other two schools as well, shot him dirty and jealous looks so often.

_Typically the interest in their preferred sex begins, for humans, upon the outset of puberty; as this is the point at which their hormones establish themselves and they discover the pleasures associated with mating... Upon finding a suitable partner, or one that they perceive as such, a male will typically engage in a rather ineffectual and illogical display of their prowess in various areas that they believe will impress their desired. Females, on the other hand, tend to, in my experience, believe that it is their potential mate's responsibility to approach them, and so will do what possible to give a mating 'signal' through furtive glances._

Had his hormones been in _stasis_ or something? This couldn't be natural, surely. Harry shook his head, trying to clear the demanding thoughts as he moved his attention away from the bountiful breasts of Jasmine, and the long legs of Daphne. Not to mention the full lips of Caroline, and the graceful curves all 4 had. He briefly thanked whatever deity there was that Tracy, in particular, was currently sat down and his attention could not be drawn to her rather enticing buttocks. What had he done to be subjected to this torture?

On top of the difficulty he had in regards to the girls he had just now truly noticed, Harry was rather uncomfortable with the many eyes he could feel on his body as he sat perfectly still; stretching, apparently, drew even more attention to him than he had to put up with already. Were these the _glances_ that Sharptongue spoke of in that summary? It was extremely uncomfortable, whether it was the glances or not.

-()()()()()-()()()()()()()-()()()()()-

'God damn it...' Harry moaned, silently, to himself as he sat at the side of the Entrance hall, on one of the many benches that had been set out for observers to watch the hopefuls enter their names into the goblet. He didn't much want to be there, but was less than happy to leave the girls alone now that he had realised just what the males leering at them meant. A cold glare quickly sent the pigs on their way, amusing Harry at the ease he could send them scampering. He presumed it was because he had yet to have a reason to scare the majority of the little shits through his time at Hogwarts that he'd only now discovered this particular talent.

His focus moved back onto the scene in front of him as a group of Hufflepuffs came rushing into the hall, roughousing a little as they pushed one in particular towards the centre. Harry noted that some attention moved onto the brown haired Hufflepuff as they entered the room. But was happy to see that none of his friends looked over at the pretty boy.

In fact, they mostly just looked bored.

Tracy was leaning against Harry's shoulder currently; brown hair splayed over it with her amber eyes closed as she lightly snored. Definitely bored.

Daphne was sitting statue-still with her legs crossed on Harry's other side; violet eyes watching impassively as the Hufflepuffs, Harry could almost hear her calling them '_idiot 'Puffs_', loudly proceed to the flaming goblet, and the pretty Slytherin scowled as a group of Hufflepuff 5th years let out a collective sigh when Diggory coolly place the strip of paper into the flames.

Caroline, unlike Tracy, was trying to remain conscious for the supposedly interesting activity of watching the various students enter the tournament. But her red fringe had, by now, covered the brown eyes and they were drooping closed.

Behind, Jasmine was braiding the crimson hair of her fellow Ravenclaw; she being the only one that was aide awake, though not focused at all on the Hufflepuffs. Her pine green eyes were focused on the task at hand, as she blew the multi-coloured strands of hair out of them. He knew that that was her pet peeve; her hair-dying potion from 1st year had gone wrong and previously the black hair had changed to every colour but the original.

As the 5 sat uninterested in the events unfolding, Harry noticed that one of the 'Puffs was approaching, a cocky swagger in his step. It wasn't one that he'd ever deemed worthy enough of note to remember his name, apparently, but the boy was in the year above Harry and the girls. Meaning he must have been a 7th year. Harry noted, with a barely restrained growl, that the boy shot a hungry gaze at Tracy's prone form.

"Chickened out, then, eh Potter?" The boy asked mockingly.

"'Chickened out'?" Harry queried back. "What do you mean?"

"Why else wouldn't you be puttin' your name in the goblet? You must've realised you aren't _all that._" He said with what Harry guessed was _supposed_ to be an intimidating glare. It was a pathetic attempt, but the boy did his best.

"All what?"

"What all the idiots of this school think you are. The so-called 'prodigy'!" He exclaimed, laughing slightly at the end of his statement.

"Oh, I am a prodigy, yes." Harry nodded, not catching the sarcasm; this was, in fact,the truth. Why would he think that the suggestion was mocking? "My OWLs were 'off the charts' according to the letter they gave me." The boy's eyes narrowed, for some reason unknown. Well, unknown to Harry. Other people would note that Harry's words could have come across as slightly full of himself.

"Bullshit! You're a coward, that's what you are!" The unnamed boy yelled.

"How do you figure that I'm a coward?" Harry questioned, not aware of anything that would suggest him being afraid of... well just about anything. Had he been afraid, he wouldn't have survived as a 'child'. _Humans _didn't need fear in this society. And otherwise, he was a hunter. Not _prey_. "What would I be afraid of?"

"The risk that comes with being champion, of course! Or did you just realise that Ced is more suited to the role?!" This boy was _loud_.

"No, I'm pretty certain I'd be a better champion than Diggory." Harry said, losing interest in the conversation, meaning his voice came out in an apathetic tone. Then, to make matters worse, he let out a barely stifled yawn. The 'Puff's face went red at the perceived slight.

"Then why are you just sitting here when Ced is entering the contest?!" Still his volume was high. Did he think being loud meant you were intimidating?

"Huh?" Harry realized he'd zoned out a little, once he stopped caring at all about the idiot in front of him. Then, he remembered what had been asked. "Oh, I put my name in last night after I got permission from Flitwick."

"No you didn't, I was there all of last night, and didn't see you there even for a second; and everyone here has said that you've just been sitting here today, and that you haven't even gone into the barrier thing!" 'Barrier thing'. Harry supposed that the boy didn't know enough magic to phrase it better than that.

"Really? So does that mean you saw Crouch get knocked out?" Harry asked the annoying boy in front of him, wanting the conversation to end and figuring this would be the quickest means to that end.

"What does that have to do with anything?!" Even louder. Frustration?

"Well, if you were here all night then you would have seen Crouch-Moody come to the Goblet, and then see him get knocked out. How did that happen, by the way?" Harry's tone and expression was still of boredom and weariness far more than curiosity. Quite simply because he _was _bored, and he didn't get the hours a cat would need to stay awake comfortably for such a long period as he had.

"I don't know..." The boy trailed off, not understanding the reason Harry had asked what he thought of as an unrelated question.

"Then you weren't here all night, were you?" The boy narrowed his eyes visibly at the perceived enemy, and turned on his heel, unable to refute the logical assumption. Well, at least he knew when to give up. Apparently smarter than the impression that Harry had gotten from the 'Puff so far.

Soon after that, the more interesting spectacle of the two Weasley twins bouncing into the hall, each wearing the get up you would expect to belong to a muggle boxer, and each, badly, singing their chosen _entrance music_; Fred being the 'Witch Doctor' song that tended to annoy Harry quite quickly, while George chose to sing Amazing Grace as he _slowly_ bounced down the path to the goblet.

"I told the witch doctor I was in love with youuu! And then the Witch Doctor he told me what to do! He told me Oo-ee-oo-aa-aa Ting Tang Walla Walla Bing Bang! Oo-ee-oo-aa-aa Ting Tang Walla Walla Bang Baaang!"

"Amaaaazing Graaace, Howw Sweeet the soouund, waas bliiind buuuuttt nooow I seeeee!"

Behind them, Harry saw the two younger Weasleys follow, along with Hermione walking with Ginny while Thomas and Ron guffawed at something or other. At least until they noticed there were _Slytherins _in the hall with them, at which point they narrowed their eyes. The pair personified the hypocritical views that Gryffindors had in regards to 'bigotry'. They assumed that anyone dressed in Green and Silver _must_ discriminate based on blood status, not noticing the fact that they were doing exactly the same thing as what they hated. Hating people needlessly.

Not that any of the Slytherins were upset by the loss of the two 4th year Fools' friendship. Hell, some of he other houses' residents were jealous of their ability to avoid interaction with two thirds of _the Golden Trio_. Well, all three of the trio, but Granger didn't have any particular hatred of the snakes; she just avoided them to avoid Ronald's 'lectures'... A curious friendship, for sure, but Harry was fairly certain Hermione mainly stayed with the two because she liked Ginny and it would be illogical to alienate them when they shared most every lesson and she struggled to make friends with her own gender.

Or maybe the bushy haired girl was just dumb? Harry really didn't know her that well.

As the identical red heads placed their names in the cup, each gave a pose of victory, acting like they had already been selected; of course neither of them were likely to consider the fact that they may _not_ get picked. In fact, they almost certainly wouldn't. The cup was designed to search for far more useful abilities than the unique(ish) combination of pranking, goofing off, and annoying those they had a problem with, that the Weasley twins utilised in their lives. However, the next Gryfindor that came to put her name in had a better chance of being selected, in the Slytherin's opinion. Angelina tended to do very well in class; especially the practical aspect of it, something that was certainly a positive for this tournament. At least the Gryffindor chaser was quiet when she entered, too. The Twins' _celebration_ would be for nought once they weren't chosen.

And just about everybody, excluding themselves of course, sincerely doubted that they would be.

-()-()-()-

"Harry! Hey, Harry!" A male voice, panting, called out to the 16-year old.

Harry was, up until now, skimming rocks along the surface of the lake as he awaited the girls coming to get him. They were doing... something. Something they referred to as a 'girl thing', saying that it was 'no place for males'. Then, the 4 ordered him to meet them at the rock next to the lake... 10 minutes ago. He was told that being deliberately late was fashionable, though he had no idea why, and so he was willing to wait for a while.

Well, he was willing until now. This changed his opinion on the matter quite significantly.

Black was out of breath, though. The 'Potter' could far and away escape if he was willing to run for it, but that would only be a temporary fix; Black was stubborn, and would no doubt keep trying to corner his technical godson.

And, so, Harry turned to the long-haired man. Angry Emerald eyes locked onto steel grey, and the owner of the second flinched back a little at the fury he saw. Harry had made the threat the year before that he'd been _certain _would warn off the man-whore.

"Didn't I tell you, _Black_, that if you came near me again there'd be a significant decrease in the number of puppy Grims running around?"

Harry's wand appeared in his stronger hand, and the black-haired man gulped a little. He'd been threatened with castration by many a disgruntled former squeeze, but his best friend's son, and his cold comment, was by far more convincing than a crying and screaming woman, though most would call them girls, meaning that the genital-valuing man gulped nervously, crossing his legs a little in trepidation.

"N-Now listen here, Harry... there's n-no need for that." Sirius said, raising his hands placatingly. "We can talk about this in a civilised manner."

"Talk about _what_?" Harry hissed.

"About..." Okay, maybe bringing this up in such an unpopulated area wasn't the _best_ idea. "Um... Nothing!" The Auror captain turned on his heel and fled. He'd find Harry another day. In a place with _witnesses_.

Harry waited another 15 minutes, and the girls showed up... he still didn't know why, but they insisted, now, that they needed to go into the Great Hall now to get the 'best seats' for the champions being selected.

-()-()-()-

'Boy, the hall is packed tight.' Harry thought to himself as the last of the Slytherins had sat down.

For now, the visitors had split themselves between 2 tables. Durmstrang shared themselves between Hufflepuff and Slytherin, while Beauxbatons had done so with Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Apparently, more had chosen to eat on their ship and carriages respectively than Harry thought. Now, the tables had had to be extended to fit everyone. Attendance was mandatory for the Halloween feast/Campion selection.

Merlin, when the other Beauxbatons students arrived, the hall may burst.

The feast came first, which made sense to feed the champions, but that made eating very uncomfortable for anyone in the middle of their table. Thankfully, the 'best seats' that the girls had mentioned turned out to be the end nearest the teachers table. They were certain Harry would be champion, and so thought his walking distance should be as little as possible when his name was called. Harry was just glad he wasn't squashed. In fact, from his spot he was rather amused by the anti-social Krum sitting between two second years, who were desperately trying not to touch him and risk the Quiddich star's wrath.

The food, as usual, was very tasty, and today everyone ate their fill far faster than normal; eager to see just who would be selected as the champion of each school for the Triwizard Tournament.

As Dumbledore stood, the entire Hall fell silent instantaneously. An uncommon occurrence to say the least. Ordinarily, the rambunctious students would take at least 10 minutes to settle down. Normally, that was an underestimate in fact, but today the entire hall was full of nervous energy. Despite the other, newly added, aspects, this main body of the tournament was, by far, the most eagerly, and anxiously, awaited.

Soon after, Dumbledore began, with excitement even in his normally unchanging tone. The only teacher that did not reflect this eager energy was Snape. Even Mcgonogall was less than composed. Far more uninhibited than most any student than any had seen her. Granted, certain members of the student body had seen her angry enough to lose her composure, but that was a far less pleasant attitude to the one she currently sported. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore explained, once more, the meaning behind the tournament; the foreign relations, and then began on the more informative aspects.

"... Yes, yes, this is all very exciting." He said with a grandfatherly smile as the excitement was palpable. "Now, onto the first task. As you know, we are about to begin a brand new tournament! One that shall, for the first time, contain 6 tasks instead of the usual 3. We believe that the additional tasks will both increase the glory that is being competed for, and that they will make for a more entertaining Triwizard tournament!" He exclaimed with fake excitement. The Headmaster had, of course, not wanted the additions. The tasks would be dangerous enough as it was. This was just terrible. "Unfortunately, 5 of the 6 cannot be revealed without defeating the purpose of the one prior. But we can let you all know to clear your calenders for the 14th of November. That will be the day of our first task; and we sincerely hope you will join us in the challenge of our soon-to-be champions' bravery." This entire speech seemed more suited to Bagman, in Harry's opinion, but Dumbledore, no doubt, would need to introduce it as the head of the host school. "Now, Filch; please bring in the Goblet of Fire!"

After the miserable caretaker had brought the flaming wooden goblet in; the entire focus of the packed hall snapped onto it. The flames were flickering in a far more animated manner to what any had seen when entering their names and/or watching others do so.

The cause became clear when Crouch, the man with a toothbrush moustache that looked awfully ill today, cleared his throat.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, the Goblet appears to be ready." He weakly projected, as Dumbledore had been preparing to begin another speech regarding love or something of that sort.

"Wonderful, wonderful." He was either faking much better now, or Dumbledore was actually ecstatic as he approached the large wooden cup. "As you all know by now, our impartial judge is this marvellous enchanted goblet. It shall soon begin in the decision making process; I wish all those who have entered their names luck, as do all the members of staff and officials that we have been joined by for this event. We will, as you all know, have additional guests joining us as of tomorrow; due to an unfortunate event that occurred at Beauxbatons, and it will be a privilege to play host to them at this exciting time. I am sure that every one will do their utmost to make them feel comfortable, and I would implore you _not_ to ask them about what occurred. We must help them to recover from such a traumatic event; just as I am certain they would do for us." He said with a smile that was irritatingly ignored. Not irritating for the Headmaster, but for a certain Slytherin, who was now pointedly focused on the Goblet; pretending that he did not notice the far-from-subtle stares he was receiving from all who had heard the 'rumours'. "Oh, and it appears to be beginning."

'Thank Merlin.' Harry thought, as the attention was drawn back off of him and onto the flaring flame. One fo the blue streaks headed straight for the elderly wizard. With a stumble back , and a slight exclamation, the Headmaster lifted his hand to display an unburned slip of frilly white paper.

"The champion for Beuxbatons is... Fleur Delacour!" There was a smattering of applause from their school's attendees, but that could not even match the number of the girls who were crying openly at failing to be selected. The girl stood and began making her way to the front of the Great Hall, as applause began from the other schools; led by Caroline as she enthusiastically celebrated her friend's selection. The other Ravenclaws soon joined in, followed by the other houses and Durmstrang.

Again, a flame shot out and into the Hogwarts headmaster's hand, and the Headmaster stood back, opening his palm to reveal another scrap of paper; this one less decorated.

"The champion of Durmstrang is... Victor Krum!" This time, there was a very enthusiastic response, led by the Durmstrang Head who stood and began yelling "Bravo Victor!" over and over again. Krum surlily walked up the aisle and followed through the same doorway.

Once more, the fire shot a slip of paper out, sending it to the designated Headmaster. The man lifted the, again ordinary, paper into his view and exclaimed.

"And the Hogwarts champion is... Harry Potter!" The girls shot Harry a grin each as he left the hall, which he returned in kind. The applause was likely greater than the other two received. Unsurprising when you consider that Hogwarts and Beauxbatons _liked_ him. While many girls seemed to hate Fleur for some reason, and those who didn't care for Quiddich had no interest in the surly Durmstrang.

As Harry walked through the door, he heard the crowd go alarmingly quiet.

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**I've got to say here that I'm chuffed with the number of follows and favourites I've gotten in the month since I first published; it's awesome to see that people like Feral.**

**But; how come you're not reviewing? Of course, some of you are but I'd ****_really_**** appreciate more.**

**Oh, and people that are reviewing negatively; I appreciate constructive criticism, but today I've had someone review 3 different chapters to tell me he (I think he) doesn't like the story.**

**And finally; I'll have more free time over the next few weeks now that I'll have some time off. I ought to be updating more often, as well as getting some written in advance so I won't be delayed in the future.**

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	9. The Little Boy

**Sorry 'bout the delay, my Laptop's fan was jammed for quite a while so it kept overheating. Sorted now, though.**

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_The Satyr was slowly clip-clopping his way toward the now cowering child. The red-skinned man grinned sadistically down the path as he descended further into the bowels of the canyon. It had been a long time since he'd had fresh meat._

_It readjusted his grip on the wicked Pitchfork, and the canter increased in speed. The boy retreated further into the slight crevice he had found, in an attempt to escape the reach of the scary-man._

_The weapon glowed dully, the ruins signifying pain promising agony for any that were so much as scratched by the fork. The arm wielding the symbol was the same; the ruins of strength glowed a savage ruby, and the man's forked tongue ran over his lengthy fangs._

_Of course, he missed the _feral_ look in the child's averted eyes. Harry'd felt this way before. A beast was at its most dangerous when cornered, after all._

_-_()-()-()-()-

As Harry pondered the silence, the girls closest to him were in a less-than-happy state.

Each of them had been smirking victoriously as they watched their only male friend calmly and confidently stride up to the door to the side of the Head table. Each was glad at the prospect of Harry being in the TriWizard tournament; for reasons that were now completely counteracted by _this_. Harry was powerful. They believed that he had more potential than they could _comprehend_, let alone _match_. It was unfortunate that they'd yet to see what results he would find in a test of inheritance at the wizarding bank. His _gift_ with runes was not something that he could just _have_... surely there must have been some reason for it. Whether that was some inherited ability was to be seen, but there were not many other plausible explanations for it. There had long since been rumoured that truly ancient houses had methods of choosing a successor that had nought to do with the bloodline; and they could not think of anybody more worthy, in power or spirit, to be selected by one of them.

Surely this tournament would be the time for Harry to _show_ just how... amazing he was. For him to prove to the world that the older brother was far more worthy of adoration than the younger. Not that Harry himself had that desire; Harry practised a policy of live and let live, unless someone gave him a genuine reason, the powerful teen would not care whatsoever what they did. As soon as they crossed that line he had, however, he would, like any one of his Animal forms, put them down with extreme prejudice.

His opportunity to break out of the monocle of the-boy-who-lived's brother, though, would not work if the, so called, Chosen One was in the contest with him! Although...

Maybe this would be the perfect way to convince their love-interest that he should _cut loose_. That his power could be used to humiliate the brother he hated so. Even if it wasn't enough to do the world a favour and let the irritating boy die.

-()-()-()-()-()-()-

"Putain! Ça me fait chier!" Hmm. That wasn't a string of French that Harry was familiar with. Fleur did, however, look livid as she exclaimed it. Was it some form of curse? Swear words? That seemed likely at least. "_How am I supposed to compete against him?!_" She continued, this time understood by Harry. The Veela-girl was on a rant that was seemingly for her own sake; since only she, Harry and Krum were in the room. Krum looked mildly bemused as the French girl began a speech on the unfairness of Harry's inclusion; speaking of how he was both too strong, and that were she to attack him in any tasks of that nature, her classmates would never forgive her. Especially not those who would be arriving tomorrow, and that he had saved from death and worse. Her relations with most of them were strained enough as it was. To fight their rescuer? That was a bad idea.

Harry watched her little temper tantrum with amusement. He followed the rant about her complaints regarding the tournament. Apparently she had her own, rather interesting, reasons to have entered; proving that she was more than just 'Fleur the Veela'. A valid reason for wanting to be the victorious champion; but Harry knew that neither he nor Krum would _let _her win. Nor would the girl likely want that to be the cause of her victory, or the purpose would be defeated.

Krum, meanwhile, was much less interesting. The Quiddich star was leant against a wall next to the trophy room's fireplace, watching the other 2 champions with a scowl; expression only briefly changing to one of amusement as Fleur began her tirade before it returned to the surly reflection of his attitude.

Before Harry could actually talk to either of the other champions, he was interrupted by the door swinging open and an irritating figure striding through.

-()-()-()-

Thomas Potter was angry. How in Merlin's name could his _pathetic _brother be selected for the tournament? He was a _geeky snake!_What chance did Hogwarts stand of getting glory on the shoulders of such a weakling?

And what was Dumbledore playing at? Not letting _him_, the CHOSEN ONE, enter? It was like he _wanted _Hogwarts to lose!

Then, he was broken out of his thoughts by a final flash from the fire, after which a piece of paper was expelled, thrown to the Headmaster. His eyes snapped forward, and Thomas' less-than-stellar intellignce tried to figure out what this meant. Weren't there only 3 champions?

"...Thomas Potter." And silence reigned.

-()-()()-()-

"What are you doing 'ere?! Do zey want uz back?!" Fleur Delacour snapped at the irritating boy, who believed that she was his _property_. She very much disliked the younger Potter. As far as she could tell, he had no redeeming qualities for the arrogance and bigotry he often showed; both to Slytherins, foreigners and what England classed as sub-human species. This, unfortunately, meant that the elder Delacour was doubly inferior in his opinion, explaining the scowl that quickly spread across his chubby face. The boy opened his mouth to put her in her place, as he no doubt considered it, but was prevented from putting his foot in his mouth when the door slammed open, and an angry old man rushed in.

"Thomas! How did you get your name into the goblet?!" Dumbledore demanded of the-boy-who-live, louder than anyone present had heard him speak; the man's voice carried, but it was always a reassuring and calm tone.

"I-I didn't, sir."

"Do not lie to me, Thomas! Did you convince an adult to help you? Was it James? Lily?"

"W-What? No! No, it wasn't me! I didn't do anything!"

Harry, and many others in the know, noted that Dumbledore now used a very subtle legilmency probe on the younger Potter, and seemed to find something that told him he was telling the truth. He turned to the other Professors, who had entered behind him.

"I am afraid that Barty Crouch Junior was more successful than we have hoped, and that he has entered Thomas here against his will to be an unwilling participant in the tournament."

"It is a little convenient, do you not think, Dumbledore? That you just happen to have 2 champions? I do not remember there being a clause that granted the host school a second champion; yet here _he_is." He waved dismissively at Thomas. "It is an unfair advantage, no? I think my school, and Beauxbatons, of course, should be permitted to enter our students again!"

"Madame?" Fleur began, confused. "What are zey talking about? It zounds like zey are zaying zis leetle boy will be in ze contest!" Thomas visibly bristled at the words, not thinking that it was at all fair, especially for a Veela Bitch, to call the saviour of the wizarding world a 'little boy'. He would have voiced this, had he not been cut off by the loud, as is natural for such an abnormally large woman, voice of Madame Maxine.

"Eet appears zat zere 'as been a mistake and zat zis child will be in ze contest too, Fleur." Olympe said, with an annoyed temperament. "I, too, believe zat we should be allowed anozzer champion, Dumblydoor." The half-gaint said, with a frown directed at said headmaster.

"Don't blame Dumbledore, Madame, Karkaroff." Snape interjected, looking at the-boy-who-lived with an expression more suited to a very fat slug than a person. "It is Potter that deserves your disdain; he insists on breaking the rules at _every _possible turn." At this, a growl from the far corner of the room directed Harry's attention to occupants he had not noticed until this point. James and Lily Potter, along with Sirius Black, were stood just inside the doorway. Lily looked miserable, while Sirius and James were glowering at the greasy professor.

"Shut it, Snivellus! Don't speak about my son like that!" James defended his youngest, glare intensifying as the other man met his gaze.

"Why wouldn't I? He's just as arrogant as his father." Severus hissed at the messy haired auror. Both James and Sirius growled at him, and opened their mouths to retort. Not that they were particularly creative with their insults.

"Long nosed-" "Greasy haired-" ""Twat.""

"James!" Lily scolded. "Your sons are here, stop being so rude!" Harry scowled at the plural, and was glad when Crouch interrupted.

"This is irrelevant, I'm afraid. You are unable to make any additional entries until the next tournament begins."

"Ridiculous! Just relight the goblet and then we two can re-enter the names of our students."

"And kill your star student?" Harry asked calmly, his voice carrying. "The goblet would assume that this tournament was cancelled and that we three had violated the contract along with him." He waved vaguely toward his _brother _and continued. "It doesn't matter anyway. From what I know of Viktor, he's considered to be quite powerful, right?"

"Yes. So what?" Igor Karkaroff asked, suspiciously.

"So, do you really think that a 14 year old boy, of below average skill and power, can defeat him?" The headmaster frowned as he thought about this. And realised that the 16 year old was right; Viktor would be victorious despite Hogwarts having an additional champion. Reluctantly, the goatee'd Headmaster nodded.

"There you go. No need to be angry about a 4thyear being entered; if anything, he should be. Chances are he'll perish in one of the tasks." Harry stated, as though commenting on the weather. "A _strong_4thyear would stand little to no chance against the weakest of NEWT students. Let alone someone who has been handed everything on a silver platter for so long that he has no magical, or physical, strength to speak of." He continued, voice still indifferent though his expression turned to a scowl as the chubby 14 year old raised himself up and puffed out his chest with what Harry supposed was meant to be an intimidating look.

"_What _did you just say?" Thomas hissed.

"In short; that you're weak." Harry responded calmly.

"Like _you_can comment on that! You're a bookworm. I could kick your ass with my eyes closed and both hands tied behind my back!"

"Really?" Harry asked, one eyebrow raised. "How do you figure? What have you done that shows _any _power? Y'know, other than the idiot acts that require you getting rescued at the end of each year." Harry subtly applied a truth rune to his often-lying brother. It wouldn't do for him to make up some story about the events of 1st or second year; as he was likely inclined to do.

"I-I defeated you-know-who!"

"Our Grandmother defeated Voldemort." Thomas flinched. "As evidenced by the fact that you can't say his name." The others in the room were interested by the previous statement. "Ah. I see that none of you know the details of that night. Our grandmother; Dorea Potter nee Black, gave her life to provide _the-boy-who-lived _protection against Voldemort's killing curse. Yet nobody gives her, nor my Grandfather who defeated nearly 20 Death Eaters at the same time, credit. Just piles it onto the shoulders of an arrogant _little boy _who was one year old at the time." He shook his head. "It's pathetic."

"Uh... Right." Bagman began, looking uncertain and changing the subject. "A-As Dumbledore said earlier, the first task will take place on the 14th of November. Until then, we have nothing else to say to the champions, so you are dismissed?" He looked to the three Headteachers and Crouch, who nodded at him. "Goodbye! I will see you all soon for the wand-weighing ceremony." The past-his-prime man scampered off, followed by the majority of the room's occupants; excluding the 4 Potters, Sirius Black, Dumbledore and the Beauxbatons teacher and student.

"Harry, my boy... you had no right to give such details of that night." The 6th year turned a glare on the old man, who ignored it. "That was a night that is very private to Thomas. It is his right to share what happened, not yours.."

"Right." Harry snapped back, voice a snarl. "Because _me _being there, and seeing both of the family members I actually hold in high esteem being _slaughtered _wasn't significant at all, was it?!" He turned a cold look onto the Potter family. "As we are both _officially _emancipated now; I will be attending a meeting at Gringotts this Saturday at 1 o'clock. I don't particularly care if you are there, but the Goblins likely will wish for your attendance." As he finished saying this, he noticed Fleur's expression turn to panic rather quickly, and would have asked the reason behind such alarm, had his 'family' not been in the room with them. Instead, Harry stalked out of the room, and left them all in silence.

Dumbledore's brow furrowed. That statement had been a mistake; he, like just about everybody else, did not register the fact that the elder Potter son was there that night. It was not good that Harry's respect for the aged Headmaster was declining; the wolf inside Harry would not accept bowing to somebody he did not consider worthy of that much. And having Harry be willing to follow him would be the best way for Albus to ensure the powerful wizard assisted him and the light side after Tom's return. He would have to rectify this falling out.

-()-

Harry quickly moved through the school, heading, in a roundabout route as to calm himself after dealing with the people he despised, to his common room. Stopping outside the wall, he spoke.

"Cobra." Really unimaginative, he knew. Especially for the house that was supposed to _value _privacy and security.

Unlike what Harry was sure would have taken place in the other 3 houses, there was no applause. No party. Just more people sat around the common room, looking slightly more happy, than normal. That and looking irritated for obvious reasons. Tracy and Daphne, however, were waiting next to the entrance with scowls. Not at the boy who entered, but at his _brother_.

The girls hadn't calmed down in the period between leaving the Great Hall and their friend joining them in the common room. If anything, the ill will they held towards the boy-who-lived had increased exponentially in that time.

Them and the rest of the school.

However, the pair did not know how to phrase "I'm sorry your famous twat of a brother sabotaged your chance to prove to your family, who you hate, that they were complete and utter fools to treat _you_badly and favour _him_." So they settled on greeting him with a hug from each, to which Harry gave a half-smile; before letting out a slight yawn.

"Congratulations!" Tracy exclaimed to him, plastering a grin on her face. Daphne offered a less exuberant repetition.

"Thanks, hopefully it'll still be enjoyable." Yes, Harry thought 'life threatening' was the same as enjoyable. "But, more importantly, I found something out before the feast that makes it a hell of a lot better a deal for me." Harry gave a, rare, genuine grin to the two in front of him. "As of the second my name was called; I'm officially emancipated. The Potters hold _no _influence over me." Unlike previously, when they _would_ have had final say in matters such as his education and funds. Not that he used their money.

If Harry was expecting happiness from Daphne and Tracy, or later from Caroline and Jasmine, at the news, he was sorely mistaken. The 4 of them had been wondering just how to bring up the favour that they had agreed to, on behalf of him, to Harry. It would be an uncomfortable conversation to be sure, and _this _sped up the deadline by a good margin. And so Tracy paled and Daphne scowled.

They would need to have a conversation with Fleur Delacour.

And it would not be one the French girl found enjoyable.

-()-()-()-

The next day, the same subject was on the mind of an unnaturally beautiful girl, dressed in the light, blue uniform of Beauxbatons.

Fleur Delacour was nervous; not helped by the fact that she did not get a wink of sleep the night before, and had no idea what she planned on doing to calm her nerves.

Saturday. She had until _Saturday_until her _situation_came to fruition. Two ways; neither of which she necessarily wanted, but one of which she certainly viewed as preferable. But Caroline had all but forbidden her from broaching the subject with the other involved party. And _that_was why she was currently on the hunt for her childhood friend. It was no longer her decision whether or not they revealed the 'secret' to Harry. The only variable up for debate was who should tell him.

Her, one of the girls that knew him much better than she, or the Goblins.

And the Goblins would be much more... brass when bringing up such a sensitive issue. Not to mention the French girl had little to no idea of how Harry would react to the sudden presentation of a marriage contract. With such a surprise, maybe he would just allow it to go to his younger brother. And that thought repulsed Fleur Delacour. Well, Fleur and just about every other female that had spent time in the vicinity of the arrogant younger Potter.

She had finished her prior commitments for the day and, despite how much she wanted to head to the carriages and go to sleep, she was heading for the approximate location of Caroline and her friends. The note Fleur had been sent the night before had assured her that they'd 'get rid' of Harry for a few hours while the 5 discussed just what they were going to do to resolve this.

Inside the room, the atmosphere was... frosty.

Caroline, Tracy and Jasmine were each casting nervous glances over at their oldest friend, each worried about the implications of Daphne's frequent fingering of her wand. Around the three, she let her shields down more than with anyone else. Even more than Harry; since his emotions were strange and he struggled with the everyday problems that she would come to him with. He would do his best, of course, but his solutions had always been a little over the top to bother him with the petty issues. One example amused the girls, when in their more... sinister moods, even now. Just as it had stuck with many of the male population. Not what Harry did, their male friend had been stopped too soon, but the... _rupture_that Tracy caused.

_Flashback: Harry's 4__th__year (Chamber of Secrets) _

_A tall and strong, albeit slightly lanky, figure jogged through the corridor. The 4 girls in pursuit were given a demonstration of just how far he outstripped the average human, let alone _wizard_when it came to physical ability. They aught to have known by now, but it was easy to forget how different their male friend was._

_Each was breathing too hard to call out to Harry as he vaulted the bannister, dropping to the floor of the Entrance hall and continuing his run. The girls followed, taking the more conventional route of the stairs, and saw that the Animagus' lead had increased even further with that time they lost in their safer descent. Harry had covered half the ground to the lake, and had given up the quieter paces in exchange for a flat-out sprint. The crowd of 6__th__years had taken note of the incoming wizard, too._

_Now, any normal person would have taken the couple of seconds necessary to yell out "Thompson!" at this point, and so let everyone know who it was that had motivated him to run the length of the castle in order to exact his revenge. Harry, however, just honed in on him and redoubled his efforts; increasing his speed yet again._

_By the time the girls had covered the next 20 metres, taking them about a third of the way to the group, Harry had reached the first of the Ravenclaws, and had subsequently batted him aside nonchalantly. The next pair, he ran over on his way to Thompson, barely seeming to notice them as they were trampled with panicked yells._

_The final 6__th__Year 'Claw between their effective 'leader' was sent to the Hospital Wing with a broken jaw as Harry dealt him a quick blow that sent him sprawling into the water behind._

_Eric Thompson had, by this point in the proceedings, cottoned on to the fact that Harry meant him ill will, and chose to attempt a daring (read: Idiotic) escape by running at his attacker with an intimidating (read: Wimpy) yell. The 17 year old was shut up, rather effectively, by the fist that was planted into his gut; leading to a grunt and a _crack_as one of his ribs cleanly broke. The next thing Eric knew, he was flung back into the December-chilled lake._

_As he resurfaced, yet another girlish yell sounded; this one that the girls were just close enough to hear, as Thompson saw the glowing end of a wand centred on him._

"_Glacius!" Harry barked._

_The water around Eric froze in a cube,and he felt a moment of drowning-panic, followed by a _different_type of panic. The cube began to rise, as he flailed his hands and feet; the only parts of his limbs that were free._

_Daphne and the others reached Harry as the cube was spinning wildly, and the imprisoned boy's face was turning green with nausea. The girls stopped, doubled over and panting, for a few seconds before Daphne gasped out "Stop...", and Harry's focus switched onto them and away from the rapidly dizzying form of the Ravenclaw._

"_What? Why?" Harry was confused. He had no idea why the girls, Daphne especially, would stop him from teaching the Ravenclaw a lesson. The Slytherin 4__th__year had yet to even get to the real lesson. He had intended to set a pack of dogs on the older boy, and to allow him an attempt at escape while too dizzy to walk in a straight line. _

"_It was... just a... threat." _

"Just_a threat?" Harry's befuddled frown deepened . "What do you mean? How can a threat be treated so... casually?" The 'Claws' spinning, however, had slowed marginally._

"_Because he never... would have done it. He... isn't like those _Slytherins _that were willing to actually do... that." Daphne was regaining her breath, and so spoke in larger chunks._

"_Well why the hell would he threaten something like that if he wasn't going to do it?!" Harry exclaimed, disliking the lack of understanding he had in this situation._

"_To look tough in front of his friends? I don't know."_

"_So you don't know he wouldn't do that!" Harry pointed out, and the ice-imprisoned boy was flung onto the bank of the lake, the ball of ice shattering and leaving him disorientated and shivering on the grass. Harry flicked his wrist again, and two stones next to Eric transformed quickly into snarling Rottweilers._

"_Yes I do!" Daphne yelled, panicked, as the vicious animals advanced. The other girls were quick to back the Slytherin girl up, stating that they knew the Ravenclaw was just angry at Daphne for turning him down when he made the threat. This didn't appease Harry, though._

"_Just stop!" Tracy ordered her friend, scowling at him. She stepped between the dogs and their would-be-victim. The two animals looked, confusedly, to their creator and followed Harry as he just grumbled something in an unrecognisable, harsh tongue, and stalked off back toward the castle._

"_Th-thank yo-iee!" Thompson had begun to thank the girls for their rescue, before the Davis daughter stomped, rather savagely, on his crotch._

_End of Flashback_

It was lucky that the threat had been heard by many in the Great Hall, as the idiot 'Claw had been confident that _he_would be the one Daphne finally succumbed to. That meant that Harry got off with a light-ish punishment; in a dozen or so detentions with Filch.

The four girls' attention was moved away from the various trains of thought they had; and the worry had plagued three of them increased, as a nervous knock came from the door. Apparently Ms. Delacour had arrived.

-()-()-()-

Elsewhere, Harry was pacing nervously. The... omens today did not bode well.

Not that he believed in the Divination stuff, but he had seen the signs. The girls were giving him confusing looks; ones that made him _extremely_uneasy. The same was coming from the French Champion; and he had no idea what could inspire her to look at him like he was... something! Stupid looks.

On top of that, he _knew_the attention wouldn't be going away tonight. It'd be growing, he suspected, with the arrival of all the Beauxbatons students. And he was a champion! Why hadn't he thought about that before he entered the blasted tournament?!

He was too unsettled to even sleep! And that was a very rare occurrence for him, what with his more-than-slightly lazy forms. He needed to burn some energy, but they'd been banned from leaving the castle until the next day; they were unsure when exactly the French reinforcements would be arriving.

Harry waved his wand in a steady, horizontal figure of eight, and a punching bag, filled with sand, was suddenly hanging from his ceiling. And so he set to working out his frustration.

**Once again, sorry about the lack of updates for a while. I haven't had many complaints about it; probably 'cause it's Christmas and people are busier than normal, but I do apologise about it.**

**One more thing; I've gotten a couple of people saying I shouldn't care 'bout the reviews I get and that I should write for me instead. I _do_ write for me, but I'll say it here; I have an absolutely _terrible_ attention span. When I write, and I've got a whole bunch of stories that have the first chapter or so written, if I don't have a motive to continue (for example; _reviews_) I'll likely drift off to something else. It's doubtful that'll happen with Feral, or my PJO story, but reviews help to guarantee that. Hope y'all understand.**

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**Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	10. The Contract

**Here's another chapter. Sorry that it's been a while, I've had writers block for this and my PJO fanfic for a good few weeks. Plus, it's just been a shitty month for me, but nothing worth complaining about.**

**I'd like to clarify here; if I ever abandon this, or any, story (and that's very unlikely), I'll make it clear that I have.**

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* * *

><p>Harry was stood at the back of the crowd, doing his best to, despite his tall frame, hide from the blue-dressed teenagers and pre-teens that were pouring into the Entrance Hall; forgoing the formalities that the rest of their school had given on their arrival. Despite this, the large group was silent as they rushed to join up with the older Beauxbatons students. Many of the already present French students quickly crossed the distance left between them and their younger peers. Sisters, brothers and cousins hugged their family members tightly as they felt the relief just about anybody would. Sure, their Headmistress had assured them that nobody had died, but Harry assumed they had not really believed it until they saw the proof before their own two eyes.<p>

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Dumbledore and Maxine watching the reunions with joy in their eyes, as Karkaroff looked on boredly. The teachers gathered around tended to have expressions similar to the former, while only Snape had one as inappropriate as the latter; in his ever-present sneer.

Next to the messy, black haired 6th year, Caroline, who was far more effectively hidden, was stubbornly rubbing her eyes; trying to avoid letting the tears fall. Whether those would be from empathy for the French Witches and Wizards plight, or jealousy at the ability to be _reunited _with those they were worried for, Harry couldn't say. And he had long since learned that it would be a bad idea to actually ask about such an uncomfortable topic, lest the short girl's tears increase even further.

Harry released a groan as the male population of Hogwarts' jaws collectively dropped, obviously caused by a new entrance; the new girl bore a, for lack of a better word, _resemblance_ to the newly selected Beauxbatons champion.

'Another Veela then.' Harry commented to himself, before his eyebrows shot into his hairline. 'And a relative of Fleur, apparently.' The girl had run to, and been embraced by, the elder Delacour daughter, both babbling in French as they hugged.

Harry's eyebrows lowered, and sank into a frown as he scratched at his cheek. Was something wrong with the rune he had drawn there? It was supposed to let him know whenever somebody he had protected, and wished to continue protecting, was in danger, but he hadn't ever met that girl, nor any of the others. So... why did his magic let him know that Beauxbatons had been where he needed to be? And _why_ had it told him the younger sister of Fleur was in danger? She wasn't here, after all. Just because she was a member of that family, there was no reason that he would be compelled to help this girl. Ah, well. Magic was far from understood. It may well be the case that this was just one of the many unexplained occurrences.

As Harry noted the, frankly pathetic, reactions of the males around him; some were openly _drooling_ for Merlin's sake, a passage from his new favourite book came to him. One that had inspired a great deal of thought in the Wizard in regards to why he would be so different from his peers.

-()-()-

_Humans, particularly those of the male gender and/or in the later stages of youth, are often ruled by their sexuality and it has, shown by the _many_ instances in history in which sex has resulted in conflict and/or disagreements, the ability to make them act in ways that we Goblins would refer to as uninhibited and foolish. This can be shown by their reaction to many magical creatures of the humanoid stature, though fortunately not our species. The most prominent example is the reaction of males in the presence of Veela and Sirens. Even the most strong willed of (Heterosexual) men will feel the pull of their allure and those that are described as 'teenagers', or those later in life that possess lesser will, by their own species will stand little to no chance of resisting the temptation to act in a foolish manner. Humans can develop an 'immunity' of sorts to the allure if they are subjected frequently and so learn to ignore the temptation, and a very small percentage of those both inclined towards females are born without being able to feel the pull whatsoever..._

-()-()-

But that didn't describe Harry. He felt the pull, admittedly vaguely, but even at the World Cup in the presence of a dozen or so full grown Veela he had no trouble resisting. So what on Earth was the reason? Was it justv an extension of his subconscious aversion to such strange emotions?

He was aware of the fact that his feelings, while becoming more like those of an ordinary human, were stunted in regards to romance and similar fields.

He was also aware of the fact that his... robotic, for lack of a better word, mindset towards the opposite sex was caused by the accidental hearing, while in his Dire-Wolf form, of a man talking to his child about their pet dog and Harry's, entirely rational, fear that followed that scene.

-()-()-

_Harry was in the woods of Muggle Britain; a shadow that was waiting for the donut shop, a pleasure he had recently discovered and occasionally partook in, to open in the shopping centre across the main road between it and the trees he resided behind._

_It was winter, and the child, only 9 years old, didn't want to wait, shivering, in his human form. Instead, he chose the thick winter coat of his Wolf to shield from the nip of cold air._

_On this side of the road, other than the woods, there were half a dozen shops. A barbers was the furthest down the small cluster they formed from Harry, then a newsagents and a grocers side by side, followed by a DIY shop, a charity shop, and lastly a Vet. The Vet's customers, being nearest to the canine, were within Harry's earshot, and so he heard a conversation between father and son that would stick with him for the rest of his days._

"_Daddy," The child began. "What's wrong with Rover?" Even as a wolf, and therefore with a slightly less human brain, Harry could hear the sadness in his voice. Sadness, that his pet, likely a dog, was sick and fear of what might happen to the animal._

"_Rover's just having an operation, Kevin. It's nothing dangerous, but it will stop him from humping the furniture." The man grumbled something under his breath about his mother-in-law and her big mouth. Harry guessed that she had used that term 'humping', and the father was not happy about it._

"_How will it stop the humping?" The child asked, wanting reassurance that his friend would not be harmed._

"_Rover will just have a quick operation called 'neutering', Kevin. I promise that nothing bad will happen to him. Now, how about some ice-cream?"_

"_Yay! Ice-cream!"_

_-_()-()-

Harry had, later on that day, looked up what that word meant. Needless to say, as one of his forms was _similar_ to a dog, he had sworn that day that _his_ testicles would never be subjected to such horror. And, short of hunting down every Vet in the world, the Animagus had not known just how to do that. He enjoyed his Canine form, and didn't want to forgo it in the future. Unconsciously his mind had decided that, since he was 9 and had zero thoughts regarding mating, it would be better to cordon that off. While he was aware of the fact that he was primarily human, why would he risk upsetting somebody with sexual actions if it could result in his losing his genitalia?

It was only now that he was coming to understand that, short of humping somebody's leg, in wolf form in particular, he wouldn't be subjected to a _fixing_. But the hesitance was definitely still there, and allowed him to maintain perfect control around the species that SharpTongue mentioned. Or at least, so far.

But back to the events unfolding around Harry.

He was growing more and more disgusted by the obvious lust on his classmates' faces. The girl was _maybe_ 14, even if she looked older, after all, and 17 year olds were here drooling as they undressed her with their eyes. Just as a glazed-eyed red head, one guess which it was, opened his mouth to embarrass himself, the 'spell' was broken by a loud _shriek_ coming from behind Harry,

"Vert! Vert, vert, vert!" As Harry turned to the source of the noise, he found a blue blur rocketing towards him. Not in his direction, no, _at Harry_. Normally, he'd have easily reacted, either sidestepping or drawing his wand to deal with a potential threat. But this was a _tiny_ girl. No older than 11 and, even for that age, abnormally diminutive.

"Oof!" Harry grunted, as the girl flew at him and slammed into his chest in an impressive leap; still chanting 'green' in her native tongue as she wrapped him in a hug that, betraying a hidden strength, knocked all the remaining wind from the tall teen's lungs.

The girl babbled something in French, too fast for Harry to follow, as she dropped to the ground in front of the English Wizard. Harry took a gasping breath as he refilled his lungs and relieved the aching in his ribs from the little girl's hug.

"Um... Hello?" The black haired teen grinned at the girl, and focused on listening as the girl began her rapid-fire talking.

"_Hello, Green Man! I didn't know you went to school here! I'm Michelle! I like you! You rescued us! Thank you for saving us, Green Man! You were a pretty cat, and I like your eyes! Emeralds are pretty, and so are your eyes! The mean men went away and haven't come back, but our school got blown up. But we're going to stay with you, so it's a happy ending!_" Michelle gave a wide grin, and clambered onto Harry's back, scaling him like a cliff until she reached his neck, where she balanced and sat.

"Uh... right." That was a lot of information to get in a foreign tongue in no more than 20 seconds. "_Is there anyone here from your family, Michelle?_" He asked the girl sat on his neck, as he realised that the majority of the hall was now watching him and the girl currently attached to him.

"_Nope!_" She responded, chipper. "_My Mom and Dad are still in France, but I get to visit them at the weekend. We're just here now because we need to learn our way around school. Oh! Can you give me a tour, Green Man?!_" She asked, excited once again.

"_I'd be happy to. And my name's Harry, Michelle. It's nice to meet you._"

"_You too!_ _Do you know when we get to eat?_" Her attention span proved not to be great, as the first year's stomach growled.

-()-()-()-()-

"I would like to say, on behalf of everybody in Hogwarts, that we are happy to welcome you to our castle. Of course, it is a shame that it is necessary and that the situation ended in such a way; one that showed that everybody involved in that horrific series of events was a victim." Dumbledore shook his head, sighing sadly at the thought of, what he perceived to be, the loss of so much redeemable life. Yet nobody was punished, since the French government deemed the vigilante who intervened commendable. _Commendable_, really. He _killed_ and they believed that the elder Potter boy was worthy of forgiveness.

Of course, the aged Headmaster was unaware of the seething Headmistress sat to his left, or the disgusted French students shooting him glares. How dare he call the people who tried to _rape_ and _kill_ the Beauxbatons students victims? What was wrong with the man to think that way?

"But the way that we can pull through this," Again, his use of the term _we_ aggravated several of the French students. "Is through support. This is the perfect way for us to fulfil the very aims of what we began this tournament trying to achieve; international cooperation and relationship building." The Old Man gave what he thought to be a humble smile to the, again from his distorted perspective, attentive audience.

Albus Dumbledore didn't receive the applause he expected at the end of his speech but, true to form, the Headmaster assumed that his words had touched those present so greatly that they had been rendered immobile and speechless. Because why else would they not be exclaiming their agreement?

Across the hall, Harry sat. To say he was out of his comfort zone would be an understatement for sure. Around the teen, dressed in black, green and silver for the welcome, three was a sea of blue. Apparently the younger Beauxbatons students didn't understand the policy of 'avoid the dangerous man'/ 'avoid the killer'. Instead, the charge lead by Michelle, they chose to show their gratitude to Harry by bombarding him with meaningless conversation. He was beginning to wonder how they could still be _this_ immature. Was it some kind of shock? Was that the way that normal people dealt with trauma? To act completely illogically?

It sounded like a more feasible explanation than an entire school of kids being _this_ immature. Even the older French students weren't avoiding him anywhere near as much as he had predicted. They seemed grateful which, Harry supposed, he could understand. He _had_ saved their lives, after all. But you can be both grateful and afraid at the same time, and that would make a hell of a lot more sense to him than showing the beginnings of hero-worship for the guy that publically killed dozens of Dark Wizards without much difficulty whatsoever.

And by no difficulty _Harry_ more meant that he had felt shockingly little afterwards. Not that surprising in his own mind, since it had been like putting down rabid dogs more than killing humans, but surely most people had more… morals? More mainstream morals? Base d on what the aged Headmaster thought on the subject, they would all be repulsed by him.

While this confusion was rather constant, the more pressing thought running through Harry's head was one of irritation. The kids sure could talk a lot. That was even more clear now that Dumbledore had finally shut up and they could stop whispering at him.

'How could people with such small lungs have so much _volume_?' Harry wondered, as Daphne caught his eyes.

Was she laughing at him?

Evil Bitch.

Okay, so maybe the sight was a little amusing; as evident by the fact that the others were trying, and failing spectacularly, to hold in their giggles at the sight of a scowling Harry Potter staring longingly at his food while the Beauxbatons girls on either side of him repeatedly tugged on his arms to try to pull his attention solely to them. But even so! They could have had a little empathy for his plight. Harry had to eat a lot. That was one of the few things his different instincts didn't clash on. He used a lot of energy, and would much rather be eating his fill right now than struggling to follow a conversation he had no interest in, that was also in a tongue not native to him.

The younger, and far more enthusiastic, students collectively froze, and their collective gaze focused on something behind Harry's head. He waited three beats, and found that they did not move back to him, so he turned to see what the fuss was about.

He supposed that she was intimidating to the small girls, but he really didn't see the need for the dislike that was present on their faces as they watched Fleur Delacour with apprehension. She'd come across as… nice, most of the time, to Harry. Granted, she was a little curt with the idiot boys that tried to 'court' her through public displays of stupidity, and was downright rude to Thomas, but Harry firmly believed that the morons deserved more than that for harassing the Veela at every turn.

"Hello, Fleur." He said to his fellow champion, as he smiled politely at her. Any sincerity was taken away by the confusion he felt at the Beauxbatons girls' reactions to the silver-blonde's presence.

''Ello 'Arry. Would it be okay for us to take a walk?" She sounded slightly nervous about taking a walk with the boy, but Harry put it down to the glares that were coming from the majority of her fellow Beauxbatons. He imagined that such… hate would be upsetting, explaining why she had been sat quite far down the table with the small group of girls that he constantly saw accompanying Fleur, with the addition of the new Veela; who drew even more attention to her and her friends.

"Sure." Harry saw no reason to refuse, and chances were that he wouldn't get any food even if he stayed, so he might as well go for the conversation that, presumably, would be more engaging than being chatted at by a bunch of first and second years. "Where did you want to walk?" He asked, as he rose from his seat, before being reminded that he was being held, rather firmly, by the nearest two girls, as they pulled him firmly back to the bench.

"Non! _You won't... him!_" Harry missed a word in that. One that he hadn't learned as of yet. The two girls, and their fellows, gave what would have been, on the faces of somebody more scary, intimidating glares to Fleur, but cowered slightly when the Beauty returned it tenfold.

"I was not going to bewitch 'im, Jessica." Fleur said to the one who spoke, with a dark glare. "'Arry?" She looked to him, wondering whether he was going to come with her as the girls let go of his arms, remembering the rumours of Fleur's avian form.

Harry, meanwhile, had taken the couple of seconds to check the expression of those further down their table. Those French teens _did_ give a genuine feel of hostility in the glares that they directed at their Champion. Strange. He had seen her be a little racist to the English, with snide comments about the country itself, the food and the weather, but the two countries had a history of conflict, and some of the Hogwarts' students had said much worse about the French during their time here. Fleur had also been short with the male populations of Hogwarts and Durmstrang, but never had he seen her be anything but polite to her fellows.

He didn't know the eldest Delacour all that well, meaning that Harry was unaware that that was just an attempt at putting up a 'united front', as they had been instructed before attending the tournament. _Very few_ of the people she had known through her time in Beauxbatons had been anything other than unpleasant or slobbering. The discrimination and racism against her kind, while less extreme than that of Britain, was still very much present in France: Men wanted her as little more than a trophy, to be mounted whenever they pleased, and women were jealous of her. A rational jealousy, since most of their partners would jump at the chance to nail a Veela, but harsh nonetheless, as Fleur had little to no control over the reactions of men to her unconscious allure.

"Uh, right." Harry pulled himself back to the present and stood, unrestricted this time as he followed the blonde out of the hall at a quick pace.

-()-()-()-()-

"So... what's up?" Harry asked the girl he was accompanying, as they walked through the castle's corridors, on the second floor.

"Up?" Fleur asked, not knowing what the native English speaker meant by the expression. Presumably he wasn't asking about the ceiling.

"Why'd you want to talk to me?" Harry corrected himself, and saw Fleur don a look of understanding briefly, before speaking once more.

"Oh, right." She cleared her throat a little, and Harry was confused to see an expression of nervousness. That suggested that this was an unpleasant topic, for the girl next to him at least. "It's about your... upcoming bank appointment."

"At Gringotts? What did you need to talk to me about that?" He had no idea what interest the Delacour daughter would have in his and his 'family's going to the wizarding bank.

"I... well, _we_ need to tell you something."

"We?" That didn't sound good to Harry, especially since he couldn't see, hear or smell anybody else in the vicinity.

"Oui." She suddenly stopped, and turned to the door to her immediate right, raising her hand and giving four sharp raps on the wood.

"What are you..." The door opened and Harry trailed off. "Caroline?"

-()-()-()-

Harry was sat on a comfortable seat, across from Jasmine, Caroline and Fleur. His two friends were sat on a two-man sofa, while Fleur was on a chair similar to his own; a blue, comfortable armchair.

"Look, I don't know _what_ I did, but I'm sorry." Harry said, nervously. The seriousness of the three boded... badly for the lone male in the room. Caroline gave a small smile to her male friend, and corrected his mistake.

"You don't need to apologise, Harry. This isn't about something _you_ did."

"Okay... so who did something?"

"Harold Potter."

"Uh... you mean my Grandfather?" Harry asked, with a frown. His grandfather had been a good man. What could he have done wrong? The girls with him, or two of them anyway, knew that Harry viewed his grandparents with rose-tinted glasses. They would have to be careful with this.

"'E and my grandfazzer really." Fleur said, or maybe spat would be the better description. "Zey... ah, zey drew up a contract before my fazzer and ze current Lord Potter were born." Harry turned to face her with a raised eyebrow, not understanding why he was being told of a business arangement.

"So? I don't really care what the Potter businesses are doing." He commented. He was barely a member of that family any more, after all.

"Non. It wasn't zat kind of contract." Fleur said, worriedly. "Eet was a... a..."

"Marriage contract." Jasmine decided to put the girl out of her misery. It wasn't fair to make Fleur tell Harry; she was just as trapped as Harry. If anything, she may have been even more so. Harry could let his brother fulfil the contract easily. Thomas wanted to, after all. Fleur, on the other hand, would have to let her kid-sister take the burden and, over the past few days, it had been made clear that Fleur cared for Gabrielle more than life itself.

"M-Marriage..." Harry repeated, his eyes widening. "You mean..." He gesture half heartedly to Fleur and back to himself.

"Not exactly..." Caroline answered, a frown on her face as the redhead debated what she was was hoping for. She certainly didn't want Harry to marry, but Fleur was one of her best friends... and she would say that the blonde _was_ her oldest friend. At Harry's confused expression, Caroline continued. "You can get out of the contract easily." She said, with a neutral mask donned. "But..."

"That'd mean giving it to the Little Shit." Harry inferred. "And you would have to marry 'the-boy-who-lived'." He addressed Fleur, who nodded.

"Oui." She sighed resignedly. Obviously that wasn't something she wanted. Who would?

"And what? Are there no clauses to get out of it?" Harry was under the impression that there were always clauses built in in order to break the marriage if the original intent fell through. "Surely they meant for it to be in your father's generation." The 6th year pointed out.

"There are," Jasmine replied. "But they require the agreement of both heads of house, for some reason." She tucked a strand of pink hair behind her ear, and continued with a scowl. "Your 'father' refuses to agree, since Thomas 'wants a Veela', and we all know how the boy-who-lived gets everything he could want."

"Shit." Harry groaned. "Wait a minute." He continued, with a confused frown. "How long have you known about this? If you've had time to find all that out..."

"How long have we known?" Jasmine squeaked, turning to Caroline, who stayed ever so lightly more composed, with a panicked expression. The red-haired girl, ignoring her rainbow-haired friend, replied, speaking slowly.

"Since the World Cup..." Harry's eyes flashed with annoyance, and he quickly stood.

"What?! And you didn't think to tell _me_?!" He exclaimed, as the chair he had been sat on was thrown back. Fleur, and seemingly only her, was more than a little unnerved by the anger he was showing, and then was very surprised by Jasmine's response, despite the Ravenclaw girl being worried about his reaction seconds before.

"Harry! Sit!" She ordered, as though the boy was a misbehaving puppy.

Harry sat.

Then, he realised what he had done and stood again, thoroughly distracted.

"Hey! You promised you'd stop doing that!" He complained, irritated. "I'm not a bloody dog!"

"You're right, Harry. We're sorry." Caroline said, with genuine sorrow. Though Harry would realise later that this may have been aimed at the previous argument.

With a grunt, Harry left in a huff, exiting the room and getting half way down the hall before something far more important occurred to him.

"Wait a minute! You've known about this for _months_?!"

* * *

><p><strong>See you all next time.<strong>

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**Oh, and there'll be a bit of a time skip, though only to the Gringotts meeting, for the next chapter, in case anyone wanted to know.**


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